They Bring Me Back
by wherehopelies
Summary: Santana Lopez lives an average life in New York as a bartender. When gorgeous Brittany and Santana's teenage niece fall into her lap, things get interesting.
1. Chapter 1

_What the fuck is going on right now? Is this a joke?_ You put your head in your hands and try to take deep calming breaths.

You are not easily caught off guard, but right now you have no idea what to say.

Your day had started off completely normal. You had slept in, gotten your morning coffee fix at the café down the street, and worked out. You were about to go have lunch with Kurt and Rachel but you needed to stop home first. When you got to the apartment, you saw an officer standing outside the door.

"Can I help you, sir?" You're in a hurry, but you find it necessary to be polite.

"I'm looking for a Santana Lopez?"

"That's me," you tell him. You're calm on the outside, but on the inside you're freaking out. What the fuck did you do, Lopez? You try to remember if you had done anything illegal lately, but nothing comes to mind.

"Can I talk to you inside for a moment?" The officer gives you a small smile and you understand that you can't really say no. You let him into the apartment and text Kurt and Rachel telling them that you won't make lunch.

"Can I get you something to drink?" You're still trying to be polite just in case you really did fuck up. You think you're fine, though, since he probably would've arrested you already if you did something illegal.

"No thank you." You tell him to sit at the small kitchen table and you sit across from him. "How old are you Ms. Lopez?"

"Twenty-six."

"And what do you do for a living?" He looks you in the eye and you feel nervous, even though your job truthfully isn't too awful.

"I work at a bar called Puckerman's. I bartend and waitress mostly." He nods and you're dying for a cigarette because you're still kind of freaking out.

"Do you know a Mr. Roberto Velasquez?"

You nod. "He was my brother-in-law. My sister died five years ago, though, so I'm not sure that still applies."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the officer offers you a sympathetic smile. You shrug. You were never really that close to your sister, as she was out of the house by the time you were five. Your mother had her when she was sixteen and had you when she was thirty. Your sister hadn't been there for any important parts of your life. Your dad had left when you were six and your mom kicked you out when you were seventeen and you told her you were gay. You had lived with Rachel for your last year of high school and then you moved to New York and went to NYU on scholarship and student loans that you were still attempting to pay off. You haven't been involved with your family in years. You didn't even go to your sister's wedding or funeral, knowing you weren't welcome. You had Rachel and Kurt and usually Puck and they were close friends at best. You were used to not having family.

"What is this about, Officer?" You are confused and your fingers are shaking, desperate to feel a cig between them.

"Mr. Velasquez was arrested two weeks ago. He has had four DUIs in the past three months and two weeks ago he received his fifth ticket and was taken into custody. When tested he was also found to be under the influence of cocaine." You stare at the officer still not understanding. Obviously this wasn't good, but you didn't know what it had to do with you. "We originally contacted your mother," the officer continued, "but she was not willing to help. Your sister is Maria Lopez, correct?" You nod again. "Your sister and Mr. Velasquez have a daughter. Are you aware of this?"

"No," you tell him. You are dumbfounded. You and your sister were not close, but surely she would have notified you of this.

"She is underage and in need of a home. Like I said before, your mother was not willing to take her."

_What the fuck is going on right now? Is this a joke?_ You put your head in your hands and try to take deep calming breaths.

You are not easily caught off guard, but right now you have no idea what to say. "It is understandable if you do not want to take responsibility for her. However, if this is the case, she will be put in a home until she is old enough to be on her own." The officer gives her a meaningful look.

"How old is she?"

"She is a junior in high school, almost seventeen."

You nod. That's not too bad. At least you wouldn't have to change diapers or do any baby shit like that. Except if she is anything like you were at seventeen, she will not be easy to handle.

"Okay," you tell him. You have a guest room, so it's not like you don't have room for the girl. "I've heard the system sucks from a buddy of mine. And once she is eighteen she can leave, right?"

The officer nods. "This is a big responsibility Ms. Lopez. Are you sure? Cassandra is very… difficult to adjust to, from what I've heard."

You roll your eyes. "Look do you want me to take the girl or not?"

The officer nods. "Of course."

"Okay then. So how's this going to work?"

The officer leans forward. "Well, we can have you pick her up at the station on Friday. She's still in Ohio, but we will fly her out tomorrow, and you can just pick her up after that." You nod. At least you get two days to get ready. "You will also need to enroll her in the local public school."

"Sure."

The officer stands. "Thank you Ms. Lopez. We will notify you with more information in the upcoming days." You shake his hand and walk him out. Then you walk outside on the balcony and light up. You take a long drag on the cigarette and try to relax. How could Maria not tell you that she had a goddamn kid? Why did your mom not want to take her and why didn't you just say no like she did? What have you gotten yourself into?


	2. Chapter 2

For once you're glad to go to work later that night. You try to leave your troubling thoughts back at the apartment. You walk into the bar and are grateful that it's warm and stuffy. Fall is almost over and the New York air is crisp and cold. You hang your jacket behind the bar, and relieve a lanky guy named Finn from duty. He's kind of a loser, with his dopey grin and friendly demeanor, but you don't mind him too much. He's the opposite of you and your stone cold act, so it's a nice change sometimes.

You start the night off right, mixing drinks and scoring tips. You know the regulars tip for your wit and charming smile, while everyone else coughs up the cash thanks to your body. You know you're hot and you use it to your advantage. You don't mind that much; it's what any girl would do for some extra tips. Take what you can get right?

The owner, Noah Puckerman, saunters through the door and flashes you a smile. He comes behind the bar and slaps your ass. "What's crackin', Lopez?" He shoots you a grin.

You roll your eyes. Puck knows you're gay, but that never stops him from flirting with you. It's not unusual. He does that with everyone. "Watch yourself, Puckerman."

He laughs and holds his hands in front of himself in defense. He knows you're capable of kicking his ass. That's how you got this job actually. You were nineteen and still pretty new to New York. After a long week, you came into his bar just needing something to help you escape the stress of being in a new city. He tried to make a move on you and while flirting, he groped your boob. He says it was an accident, but you still don't know whether you believe it. Anyway, you got pissed and unleashed your inner bitch. You were about to let his favorite body part have it (but not in the way he wanted) when Finn jumped out from behind the bar and held you back. Puckerman just smirked and said he was sorry and he'd let you have free drinks for the night if you calmed down. Not having a job or a whole lot of money, you agreed. He didn't even ID you. You got talking with him, and it came up that you were new to the city and were looking for some work. He offered you a job and you've been here for the past seven years. Puck pays you well, a manager's salary, even though you really just bartend. Plus you make awesome tips. You like your job, and haven't found the need to find a new one. Puckerman's is your home away from home, and it helps with those damn student loans that you're almost done paying off.

"You know you want this, Santana." You make a gagging motion, and he starts to make his rounds to all the tables, smirking the whole time. You smile a little.

You're mixing a Jim Beam and ginger ale for one of your regulars when you see her. She just walked through the door and her cheeks are bright red from the cold. They contrast nicely with her blonde hair and vibrant smile. She makes her way over to you and sits on a stool at the very end of the bar, away from the door. You squeeze some lime into the Jim Beam and hand it to the guy who smiles at you. He always leaves nice tips.

You make your way over to the blonde. She's frowning down at her phone and there is a little wrinkle in her forehead that you can't help but find extremely adorable. This shocks you; you don't do adorable. "Can I get you something?" you ask her.

She looks up and you're met with the most stunning pair of blue eyes you've ever seen. The dim bar lights reflect off of them, giving the orbs a smoky glow. She smiles at you and her pearly whites reach all the way to those pools of blue. "Hi," she says.

"Hey," you unconsciously smile at her.

"What's good here?"

Any other time, you might have answered with something like, "you're looking at her," and flash your most seductive smile. But the words get lost somewhere on the way from your brain to your tongue. "Ummm…" you clear your throat. "What do you feel like?"

She cocks her head to the left, and you can't help but smile at this girl. "Surprise me." She finally says. You walk away and start mixing what you always mix when people tell you to surprise them. It's a little old to you really. Everyone asks that. Cute Blonde is looking at her phone again with that same frown. You walk back and hand her the vodka and orange you just mixed. She smiles up at you again before taking a sip. "Vodka and orange?" You nod. "Good choice."

You nod because you don't know what else to do. A man sits down at the other end of the bar. He orders and you go to get his Bud from the tap. You pull out a frosted glass and glance back at the blonde, who still has that frown. You decide you don't like that frown. It looks weird on her. You give the man his beer and wipe down the bar for something to do. The Jim Beam guy is ready to leave and he pays his tab and, as usual, gives you a hefty tip. "Bye Santana. See you soon," he smiles at you and you genuinely smile back because he's one of those guys who is married and has never actually hit on you. You appreciate that.

You see Frowning Blonde has finished her drink and you make your back to her. "You want more?"

The corners of her lips twitch and she nods. You bring her another drink and she sets her phone on the table with a sigh. You want to know who stood her up because you've seen this situation so many times over your seven years working here and Blondie has been waiting here long enough with that expectant look on her face and it's pretty obvious. You feel bad for her, but it's not your business.

"So… Santana, is it?" You raise your eyebrow questioningly at her. She shrugs. "I was eavesdropping." She gives you a small smile.

"Are you waiting for someone?" You try to make it sound nonchalant, and it kind of works, so you inwardly congratulate yourself on not being a total loser again.

"I was." You so knew it, she was stood up. This is one of many reasons you do not like guys. "But something came up with her sister and she had to go to the hospital, I guess." She? This girl did not set off your gaydar.

"Is her sister okay?" You don't know why you're asking. Normally you'd just nod and walk away.

"I guess. She had some gall bladder issue and went into surgery, but I'm pretty sure she's okay."

"That's good."

Blondie nods and takes another sip of her drink. You inconspicuously stare at her bright blue eyes as she looks around the bar. She smirks at something before turning back to you. "I think someone wants you down there." You snap your eyes away from her and glance down the bar. You see a tall man with short brown hair and sigh. Another regular, but not a good one. He sees you looking and flashes you a smile that you think is supposed to impress you, but really just makes you sick. You groan and go over to him.

"Hey Santana," he says when you're in earshot.

"Jake," you reply curtly. "The usual?"

You mix his usual and slide it across the bar to him. "What time do you get off tonight, gorgeous?"

You roll your eyes. "One."

He looks at his watch and you know it's only eleven thirty. "Ah. Well that's a bummer. You working tomorrow?" You nod and he grins at you. "How about we go out after your shift then?"

You huff and try not get pissed. "I already told you before, Jake. I'm not interested."

Jake just smirks, and he reminds you of Puckerman, but at least you like Puck. You hate this douchebag.

"I'll get you to have dinner with me one of these days, Santana." You know you could always tell him you're gay, but somehow that always makes guys like Jake try harder. Sometimes you wish you weren't so smoking. You nod and the other guy at the bar pays for his Bud and he tips you decently. You feel someone's gaze on you and turn to find Cute Blonde staring at you. You make your way back to her and she downs the rest of her drink.

"Another?"

She shakes her head and you hand her the tab. She pays while you help out a few other guys who've come up to the bar from one of the back tables. She's putting on her jacket when you finally get back over to her. She smiles and thanks you. You find yourself easily smiling back. She waggles her fingers and makes her way to the door before turning back. "Bye Santana, see you around!" You stare after her as she disappears into the chilly night air. You pick up her tab and see she tipped you amazingly. You can't help but smile, even as you walk back to Jake who tells you he has to head out but he'll be back soon.

You can't wait.

At least he tips well.

All these tips are making you realize that if your sister's kid is going to be living with you then you're going to have to start paying for two. Also that she's going to be alone while you're working. You're pretty sure she'll be okay if she's almost seventeen, but still, it's a strange concept. You see Puck walking around and tell him you need to talk to him after your shift.

You do pretty well for a Wednesday, and as one rolls around you're tired and ready to go home. You wipe down the bar and you're relieved when Puck comes to take your spot behind the bar.

"What's up, Lopez?"

"I need Friday night and the weekend off."

"What? Those are the busiest nights!"

"I know, but something came up." You explain the situation and watch as a look of bewilderment crosses his face.

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah. Anyway, I don't think it would be a great idea to leave her alone the first couple of days, you know?"

He nods. "Take a few days off."

"I'll still be here tomorrow." He nods in acknowledgement.

"You even know how to take care of a kid, Lopez?"

You shrug. "She's a teenager, Puck, I'm sure she can take care of herself. She just needs a home and food and all that necessary shit."

"I guess so."

You sigh from exhaustion. It's been a long day. "I'm heading out," you tell him.

"See you tomorrow."

You wave and head out, walking the few blocks to your apartment building. You relish the warmth you feel when you finally crawl into bed. You try to relax but you can't help think about how you have a lot to do tomorrow to get ready for your niece. The word sounds funny even inside your head. You can't help but worry a little bit about her arrival. You're not that great with kids. You try to remind yourself she's barely ten years younger than you and not a baby. Thoughts like this swirl around in your head until you are finally able to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

You wake up feeling extremely uneasy. Today is your last day by yourself. You make your way to the kitchen and see that you desperately need to go to the grocery store. You decide to go shopping after the kid gets here because you don't know what she likes to eat. At least you still have enough coffee left. You get a text from Kurt about lunch today since you had to cancel yesterday. You reply that you'll meet him in a few hours after you work out.

You go to the gym and try to work away your nerves. It's not helping. You begin to feel increasingly panicked about taking care of someone. You've only ever had to take care of yourself. You never even had a pet as a kid. You finish up and go back to the apartment to shower before lunch. It helps you relax a little. Eventually you make your way to a small Italian place around the corner that you always go to for lunch. You see Kurt and Rachel sitting in your usual booth. Kurt is looking fashionable as usual. Rachel is bundled up in a jacket, but you know she probably looks okay. You pride yourself on changing her wardrobe for the better during senior year in high school in exchange for her family taking you in. You sit down in the booth across from them just in time to hear Rachel telling Kurt that she isn't sure her supporting cast will be ready in time for opening night and she'll have to pick up all their slack and that it is just like high school glee club all over again. She has the lead in some new off-Broadway play that you know you never would have heard of if Rachel wasn't in it. The waiter takes your drink order and the pair finally notices you.

"Oh, hello Santana!" Kurt's voice is so girlish you can't help but roll your eyes at him.

"Kurt. Rachel." You met Kurt at NYU your very first class. He sat next to you and you found him to be a pretty fun person to be around, even if he was so ridiculously gay you wanted to throw up rainbows. You've been friends since. He owns his own fashion boutique that is really successful, with lines spread internationally. Your friends are successful, much more successful than you. You have a degree, but at this point, it's useless to you. You wouldn't even mind bartending the rest of your life. Nothing else seems right for you anyway.

Kurt and Rachel continue to talk about Rachel's play and all the gossip of the fashion world. You zone out, too caught up in your own thoughts. You need to find the local high school and call them. You need to change the sheets in the guest room. Do you need to childproof things? Should you lock the cabinet above the fridge where you keep the liquor? You are starting to feel very lost. You're broken out of your thoughts by your phone ringing. A glance across the table shows you that Kurt and Rachel are still preoccupied so you answer it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Lopez?"

"This is she?"

"Hi Ms. Lopez, this is Officer Hernandez, we spoke yesterday about your niece?"

"Oh, yes, hi."

"I was just calling to inform you of the details of your niece's arrival tomorrow. Mr. Velasquez paid for her to get a flight early afternoon and has arranged for her transportation, so it would be preferable if you could drop by the station around three. Does that work out for you?"

"That's fine."

"You don't know how much you're helping out this kid, Ms. Lopez."

"It's no problem, Officer."

"Alright then. Well I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then."

You hang up to find Rachel and Kurt giving you a weird look. "What?"

"Who was that?" Kurt raises his eyebrows.

"Nobody." You should tell them, but you feel uneasy about it.

"Santana, why were you talking to an officer?" Rachel's giving you that look. That look like she knows you're not saying something and she's onto you and she's not going to leave you alone until she's stuck her giant nose all up in your business.

You look back and forth between the two of them and open your mouth to tell them, but then the waiter comes back with your drink and takes your order. You, for once, are relieved that waiters always seem to check up on you at the worst times. You order your pasta and when the waiter leaves are dismayed to see Rachel and Kurt still looking at you expectantly. You roll your eyes.

"Care to explain, Satan?" Kurt smirks at you.

"Maria has a daughter," you begin.

Rachel gives you a questioning look, while Kurt asks, "Who's Maria."

"Santana's older sister." Rachel swats him to be quiet.

You nod and rest your elbow on the table, and put your chin in your hand. You don't feel like doing this. "Her husband Roberto was just arrested and the girl doesn't have a place to live."

"Okay…"

"Well, and my mom wouldn't take her, so…"

Rachel's mouth falls open. "She's coming to live with you?" You nod. "Here? In New York?" You roll your eyes again.

"That's unexpected." Kurt takes a sip of his lemonade. "When?"

"Tomorrow."'

"Tomorrow? That's so soon!" You nod. You are already aware of this.

You sit in silence for a moment. You're not really sure what else to say, but you know the two gossiping divas will surely have their input if you wait long enough. Rachel is the first to break the silence.

"Santana, as I am sure you are aware, raising a child is not, as they would say, a walk in the park! Are you positive that you are emotionally ready for such a responsibility?"

"She's not a child, Rach. And I'm not raising her. She's almost seventeen."

"Why didn't you know about this, Santana?"

You shrug, you don't really know. There is silence again before Rachel tentatively says, "Maybe this is a good thing for you, Santana."

You raise an eyebrow at her. "What are you hinting at, Berry?"

"Maybe it's time you settle down." You are surprised at Rachel's tepidness. She is usually so bold.

"What?" You stare at her incredulously. You are twenty fucking six. You do not need to settle down.

"Let's face the facts, Santana. You have never had a real relationship. In fact, I've never seen you with a woman more than once. You work full time at a bar. You have no spontaneity in your life. You are almost thirty, Santana, and I, for one, find it extremely disappointing that you are wasting your life like this." Rachel finally takes a breath and you glare at her. She doesn't seem to notice. If she does, she doesn't care. "If we use myself as an example, we can note that I have had several functioning relationships and I am soon to have a successful Broadway career. Kurt is known internationally and has already tied the knot!"

"Don't bring me into this, Rachel." Kurt huffs, but looks fondly at his wedding ring. You briefly remember his wedding ceremony, where his face glowed as he danced with his pretty boy groom, Blaine. You remember downing shot after shot before taking one of Blaine's cousins home with you. You can't seem to remember her name.

"What does any of this have to do with letting the girl live at my house?"

"I'm just implying that it would be a fantastic experience for you to have responsibility and see what it's like to have a constant person in your life that you love and care for." Rachel finishes and your food arrives. You are once again grateful because under your cool exterior you feel anger bubbling and you don't want to snap at Rachel right now. You shovel down your food in an attempt to dissuade Rachel from making conversation with you. It works, and the conversation turns back to the horror that is her forty-five second costume change time between two scenes. She doesn't bring it up again and you are beyond relieved.

After lunch, you return to your apartment and change the guest room sheets. You research which high school is closest to you and decide you will call them next week. You think the girl deserves a week to get acquainted with her new life. You decide against the child locks, but hide the more expensive liquor in your closet. By the time you're done, you need to get ready for work.

It's strangely slow at the bar, even for a Thursday, so Puck tells you to sit down and take a load off. You didn't realize how heavy your load was until you had a few drinks. You're sitting at the bar, three vodka tonics in, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You whip around to see two hazel eyes staring at you.

"What?" You snap. The girl takes a step back and you get a better look at her. She's blonde and short and kind of cute. She has this good girl gone bad look to her, and you can't tell if she's gay or straight or what.

"I was just wondering if you'd seen a tall blonde girl walk in." She eyes you up and down and you feel like this girl doesn't take shit from anyone.

"No, I haven't."

She tilts her head to the side before nodding her head. "Can I sit with you?"

"What about tall blonde girl?"

"I don't think she's here yet."

You shrug your shoulders. "Yeah, alright."

She sits down next to you at the bar and Puck wanders over. "Hey gorgeous, what can I get you?" You roll your eyes at Puck and slide your glass over to him, motioning for another.

"I'll have what she's having." Puck goes to get the drinks and your new company turns to you. "I'm Quinn by the way."

"Santana."

"Not much for conversation, are you?" Quinn raises her eyebrows at you.

"That depends…"

"On what?"

You're about to tell her, but Puck saunters over. "One for the beautiful lady and another one for Lezpez." He places your drink in front of you and you shoot him your signature glare. He laughs, unfazed. "Seriously though, Santana, you should slow it down."

"Back off, Puckerman. I need more if I'm going to have to deal with your ass all night." Quinn laughs and you glare at her too.

"Is she always like this?" Quinn turns to Puck with a smile.

"Pretty much. You might say she needs to loosen up and get laid, but I don't think that's her problem. She gets laid plenty. I'm sorry to say there is no excuse for her behavior, she was just born a bitch. Weren't you, Santana?" His mocking tone angers you and he knows it. He smirks at you and you're just about to show him how much of a bitch you really are when someone pushes in between you and Quinn at the bar.

"Quinn!"

"Oh, hey B. About time you got here." You look to see who's invading your personal space and see it's Cute Blonde from yesterday. She has this big smile that lights up her eyes and her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in waves. Cute Blonde turns to you and her smile seems to grow even wider. "Oh, this is Santana, by the way. Santana this is-"

"Yeah, we've met," Cute Blonde cuts in. "Hey Santana."

"Hi again."

"Wait, how do you know each other?"

"Well, I was already here yesterday before you texted me about your sister. We talked for a little bit."

You raise your eyebrows. "This is who stood you up?" You turn to Smiling Blonde and smirk a little.

"Hey, B! You told her I stood you up?"

"Relax Quinn. She's kidding." Cute Blonde – B? – rolls her eyes.

"Oh."

"Santana's been giving you the bitch act so don't worry about it," Puck interjects.

Quinn snorts. "That's for sure. You positive you talked to her, B? She's been cold shouldering me ever since I sat down." Quinn's face remains serious, but you see a glint in her eye that tells you she's joking. You down your drink and say nothing.

"Aw, I think San's nice."

Your drink gets caught in your throat and you can't help the coughs that escape your mouth. "Whoa, easy there, San. Don't want me to have to do CPR on you, do you?" You thank God that your skin tone hides the red creeping into your cheeks. Cute Blonde laughs and asks Puck for a drink. You motion for another.

"Seriously, Santana? Last one, okay?"

You shrug. You can feel the alcohol starting to take effect, but you're not ready to stop yet. Quinn and Cute Blonde talk for a minute and you watch Puck behind the bar. What time is it? You remember that you have to pick the kid up at three tomorrow and your nerves come racing back. Puck sets down another glass and you take a big sip, trying to wash away the panic that has just crept over you.

"Oh my God!" Cute Blonde squeals and you jump a little in your seat. "Quinn, I love this song! Dance with me?" She doesn't wait for Quinn to respond, but grabs her by the hand and hauls her over to the small dance floor Puck has set up in the corner. You watch them walk away and notice that Cute Blonde towers over Quinn. She seems to take two strides and is already on the floor moving to the beat. You watch as her body molds to the music. She spins Quinn around and throws her head back laughing. You're entranced by her long long long legs and the gracefulness with which she absorbs the rhythm of the song and brings it to life. Quinn seems to hold her own with Long Legs and they dance in a way that suggests they've danced together many times before. Tall Blonde laughs again before glancing up and catching you staring at her. She smiles that bright smile of hers and you smile back before returning to your drink.

You talk with Puck about the girl he brought home last night for a while until someone occupies the seat Quinn vacated. You look up to see a familiar face and internally groan.

"Hey hot stuff."

"Go away, Jake."

The good looking man smiles at you. "Why, looks like you're not working tonight like you said you would be."

"I was, but I'm done for the night." If the time you had spent talking to Puck didn't sober you right back up then seeing this douche bag sure did.

"Well then, I guess you don't have an excuse not to come out with me." You scowl and are about to tell him to fuck off when an arm slides across your shoulders.

"Hey, babe, who's this?"

You look up to see Tall Cute Blonde staring pointedly at Jake. "I'm Jake. Who are you beautiful, and why haven't we met before?"

Your smile quickly turns to a glare and you can feel the anger boiling in your stomach. "I'm with Santana. Jake, you said?" Cute Blonde looks down at you, her arm still snaked across your shoulders. "Sweetie you've never mentioned him before. Is this something I should be worried about?" Blondie's eyes twinkle mischievously and you smile gratefully.

"No, baby, he's not important to me. You always get so jealous. I've told you before, you're enough for me." You play along, thankful Cute Blonde is saving you, even though Jake knows you're gay now. You don't care much; you're pretty sure he wasn't going to give up anyway.

"I don't know, Santana. He seems to be getting a little too friendly with you for my liking." Cute Blonde sends Jake a glare and you can't help but think she is super sexy when she's pretending to be possessive of you.

Jake looks back and forth between you and Sexy Blonde before putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, hey I know when to back off ladies." You snort. Yeah, right. "Well, bye Santana, see you around." He pushes off the bar stool, leaving you alone with Blondie.

You turn to her and smile gratefully. "Thanks, that guy never leaves me alone. I swear I've turned him down at least twenty times."

"No problem." Cute Blonde leans down and you feel her breath on your face. "Plus, I just wanted to steal you all for myself."

You raise your eyebrows at her flirtatious tone. "Oh?"

She twirls a strand of your hair between her fingers. "Mhmmm." Her blue eyes sparkle and you wonder where Quinn went.

"What about your girlfriend?"

A look of surprise crosses her face. "Who, Quinn? Oh, she's not my girlfriend. Although I do think she has a thing for your guy friend over there." Cute Blonde points across the bar to where Quinn is talking to Puck. You look back to see her smiling seductively at you. "So, can I get you a drink? Or anything else?" She leans forward and you feel her breath tickle your lips. Your whole body heats up and you feel a sudden throb between your legs.

You smile and tell her that you think Puck is right; you've had enough drinks for the night. "We could go back to my place if you want?" You suggest in a whisper.

"Okay." She skips off to tell Quinn she's leaving and you don't bother saying goodbye to Puck. Cute Blonde grabs your hand and leads you out of the bar. You're thankful you were smart enough to get an apartment just down the block from Puckerman's. You lead Blondie to the apartment and as soon as you've shut the door behind you, you're being slammed against it. It kind of hurts, but the pain is lost on you as lips connect with yours and your arms are pinned above your head against the door. You take in the smell of alcohol and sweat and something sweet and feel your heart beat quicken as blood rushes to your head.

You push Forceful Blonde back and grab her hand, yanking her towards the bedroom. You push her down on the bed and your lips begin a full-fledged attack on her neck. You feel her hands in your hair and on your cheek and on your shoulders and everywhere before they're tugging at your shirt and pulling it over your head. Graceful Blonde removes her own shirt before pulling you back on top of her and reconnecting your lips. You quickly unbutton your jeans when the throb between your legs intensifies. You remove her jeans and panties then move to get rid of your own as her bra falls to the floor. Yours follows shortly.

Then you're on top of her, hands in her blonde hair and she moans when your tongue slips past her lips. Your hands eagerly explore her long body and you take in her defined abs and toned thighs. Then you've got one hand on her stomach and one slipping through her legs. She gasps when you enter her and soon you're pumping and thrusting and her hands clamp down on your sheets and she's shaking and clenching and suddenly she's arched into you and there's momentary silence except for rapid breathing and you gently bring her back down until she's slumped on the bed with one last quiet moan.

Satisfied Blonde barely takes any recovery time before she's flipped you over and is pinning you down with muscular arms. She straddles you and kisses your neck, nibbling at it before running her tongue over the freshly marked spot. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel her hand travel south, one arm still holding yours to the bed. You groan when she dances around your entrance, teasing you, and you turn your head and bring your lips to hers. Finally she thrusts a finger in and begins moving in and out of you. You can't believe how ready you already are, and when she slips in a second finger you feel a low burn in your stomach. Another finger is added and you're so full and so ready and with a curl of the fingers you're toppling over the edge and an "Oh… God!" escapes your throat. You come back down with a sigh and blue eyes find yours in the darkness.

"Actually, it's Brittany," Cute Blonde says with a laugh and normally you would roll your eyes at such cheesiness, but you've just experienced the best orgasm you've had in a really long time and you can't do anything but breathe out a small breath of air.

"Brittany," you whisper as her body rolls off of you and her arm reaches over your stomach and drags you closer.

"Mhmmm." You barely hear her through your haze and sudden exhaustion before your eyes close and you drift to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun streaming in through the blinds wakes you up. You groan and try to blink the sleep from your eyes. Rolling over, you find that you're alone. Your head is pounding and you know you drank last night, but you're pretty sure you brought that blonde from the bar home. Yes, you're sure of it. You think for a moment and remember her name is Brittany. Yes, that's it. Cute, graceful, sexy Brittany who saved you from that douche bag Jake. You assume she probably fucked and ran. It's what you always do. A glance at the clock reminds you that you have to pick up the girl from the station in a few hours.

Shit. You push yourself out of bed and blood rushes to your head. The thought of the kid combined with your slight hangover is causing the sensation of a hammer hitting your skull. You shakily walk into the kitchen and grab two Tylenols before making your way to the coffee machine. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you see there is already coffee in the pot. A piece of paper sits next to the machine.

_Hey, I didn't mean to skip out on you, but I had to run to work. Hope the coffee makes up for it. Thanks for last night, call me sometime. Brittany_

You look at the number Brittany left you. Should you call her? You're not really into dating, but she was really cute. And sexy. And good in bed…. You shouldn't be thinking about this right now. You have to get ready so you can go to the station. You pour yourself some coffee and try to distract yourself with the morning newspaper. You're interested just enough in a few articles regarding the upcoming elections to pass enough time before you need to shower.

You take it easy getting ready, but the time slips away from you and before you know it, you're leaving the apartment and walking to the police station that's a few blocks down. Nerves flutter somewhere in between your chest and your stomach and you question whether you can handle this. It's too late to go back on it, especially since you've arrived at the station. You walk in and see a desk, but it's empty. There's a little waiting area off to the side and you see a young girl sitting there. She looks up as you walk over and you stop in your tracks as her eyes widen in surprise. You stare at each other and you know this must be the kid because she looks just like you did when you were in high school. You watch as her mouth opens before she quickly shuts it and narrows her eyes at you. Your eyes meet her dark chocolate ones and the effect is eerie. It's like looking in the mirror at a younger you. You try to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. Heavy footsteps break your staring contest with the girl as you look up to see the officer from before walking up to you.

"Ms. Lopez! Hi!"

"Hi Officer Hernandez." You shake his hand. Your eyes travel back to the girl, who is still staring at you. Officer Hernandez clears his throat.

"Ms. Lopez this is Cassandra. Cassandra, this is your Aunt."

"Hey. Uh… It's Santana." You hold out your hand to her and smile a little as she shakes it, but she continues to look at you through narrowed eyes. There's an awkward silence as you expect her to say something, but she doesn't. You look to Officer Hernandez, unsure of what to do.

"Alright, then." He gives the girl a stern look and she rolls her eyes. He turns to you. "If I could get you to fill out some paperwork then you'll be good to go."

"Okay." You follow him into his office and he shuffles through some papers on his desk before handing a few to you with a pen. You start to read the papers over, but the information isn't really sinking in.

"She seems like a good kid." Officer Hernandez tells you. You nod, still looking over the papers. "I think she might just have some trust issues. You can't really blame her, though. Her dad's in prison and her grandma won't take her." You sign a line. Initial. Date. "You guys really look alike."

"Yeah, I guess so." You initial a few more times and sign once more on the last page and then you're handing the papers back to Officer Hernandez and standing up.

"Thanks, Ms. Lopez. I'm sure it means a lot to her." You nod again. "Just… just try to be patient with her, she's going through a hard time."

"Yeah, I will. Thank you Officer."

"Sure. Someone will be calling or stopping by in the next few weeks, just to see how everything is going."

"Sounds good." You walk back to the waiting area and the girl stands up as you approach her. "Uh… ready?"

"Whatever." It's the first word she's said to you, and you're taken by surprise. You keep in mind that she's probably not too happy about being forced to come here, so you let it slide. She picks up her backpack and an insanely large duffle bag.

"Want some help with that?" She shakes her head no, so you shrug and lead the way outside. You walk in silence and you frantically search for something to say to break the tension. "So how old are you again?"

She shrugs. "How old are you?"

You smirk. She wants to play this game, then. You think you're too mature for this. "Twenty-six."

"Twenty-six? Huh, you look older than that." Her tone of voice tells you that she isn't complimenting you. You roll your eyes. "What do you do?"

"What?"

"Where do you work, what's your job?"

"Oh." You hadn't really wanted that to come up yet. Sure, you know working at the bar isn't bad or lazy. It's just not overly ambitious and people always jump to conclusions about you when you tell them you're a bartender. It doesn't make for a very great first impression. "I bartend."

"Bartend?" The younger Latina scoffs. Yeah, just as you expected. "Did you go to college?"

"Yeah, I graduated from NYU."

"So why do you work at a bar?"

You shrug. "Nothing better has come along, I guess."

"You don't live in some shack, right? Like I don't have to sleep on the floor or something, sí?"

You roll your eyes. "No. You'll have your own room."

You walk along in silence until you get to the apartment. When you open the door, you sneak a glance at the girl and see her shrug in approval. You show her around and let her unpack. She finishes quickly.

"So I was thinking we could get some food and then go to the store because I really need groceries and I don't know what you like to eat."

"Okay." You take her to this pizza place by Puckerman's that you like. You eat in a very awkward silence because you're not sure what to say at all and the girl doesn't seem to talk much. You finish your slices and walk to the store. On the way, you pass the bar.

"That's where I work. You know, in case you ever need to reach me or something." She tilts her head to the side and then nods. Once you get to the store you tell her to get whatever she wants and just put it in the cart. You stock up on some fruit and vegetables and some frozen cheeseburgers. You get stuff to make lasagna. The young Latina mostly just walks in silence, putting a few things in the cart here and there. She adds an expensive box of crackers to the cart. Then some organic juice. You let her put it in the cart, but a carton of expensive vegan ice cream has you putting your foot down.

"Okay, what no. That shit is expensive. Can't you just have regular ice cream?"

"I'm vegan!"

"Ummm, yeah nice try. You just put string cheese in the cart like five minutes ago."

"You said I could get whatever I wanted!" The girl puts her hands on her hips and shoots you a bitch look. Please. You know that look all too well, it has no effect on you.

"Look. I'm not stupid, alright. You can get whatever you want, but I know you're getting that expensive stuff just to piss me off." You stare her down. "Put that back. If you want ice cream, just get the regular kind." She rolls her eyes and puts the ice cream back.

You check out and grab the few bags. You hand one to the girl and she huffs indignantly. You clench your jaw, annoyed. You decide to make an effort on the walk home.

"So… Cassandra, right?" The girl doesn't say anything. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm a junior."

"Cool. Do you like school?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, do you like sports?"

"Hell no."

"So… what do you like?"

The girl shrugs. "Did you know my mom?"

You definitely weren't expecting that. "Uh… no, not really."

"Oh." It's silent for a minute, and you don't expect it when she finally says, "You look like her."

You don't know what to say, so you don't say anything. It's late when you finally get back to the apartment. You start putting the groceries away and the girl leans against the counter, watching you. It's making you really uneasy.

"Did you leave a boyfriend in Ohio?" You ask just to break the silence.

"No."

"Oh. Well I bet you'll miss your friends, huh?"

She snorts. "No."

"No? Why not?"

She shrugs. You roll your eyes. It's impossible to have a conversation with this girl.

"Well, what about you? Got a boyfriend, fiancée, husband?"

"No." You decide to not tell her you're gay right now. You don't know how much time she's spent with your mom. Although, if she didn't want the girl… maybe not that much.

"Let me guess, you're more of the one night stand type, right?" She smirks at you.

You clench your fists and try to be patient. Sure, maybe you are that girl, but whatever, this little bitch didn't need to call you out on it. She doesn't even know you. You don't answer the question.

"So, let me get this straight. No established career, works at a bar, no stable relationship… you sound like a winner, Santana."

You can't help it, you snap at her. "Listen kid. You don't know me. I don't know you. But you sound like a class a bitch to me. It's no wonder your pops couldn't put in the effort to stay clean for you. And I don't blame your _abuela_ for not taking you in. So shut the fuck up." You glare at her, hand on your hip and if you weren't pissed, you might laugh because she's standing the exact same way.

"You don't know shit about my family." Her brown eyes look almost black in the kitchen light. "There's a reason nobody in my family talks about you and your sorry excuse for a life. You may look like my mom, but you haven't been part of this family for a long time, so stop trying to act like it. I'm only here because I have to be, but once I'm eighteen, forget it." She glares at you menacingly, but you hold your own. There's a second of silence before she spins on her heel and storms off. You hear a door slam from down the hall. You slam your hand against the counter and try to take deep breaths. By the time you've finished putting the groceries away, you've cooled off a bit.

You go out to the fire escape and light up a cigarette. You're not angry anymore and you're starting to feel guilty. You shouldn't have snapped at her. You know that she's probably fragile right now. Losing your family sucks. You would know. You stomp out your cig and go back inside. There's no sign of the girl, so you decide to head to bed.

You don't get much sleep. You feel like shit for going off on the girl and the panic from the previous days starts to creep over you again. Did you make the right decision? What if you screw up? You can barely handle your own life at times, let alone watch out for someone else. You toss and turn and eventually fall into a restless sleep.

You wake up pretty early the next morning and decide to make breakfast. Maybe the girl will give you another chance. You make pancakes and bacon. You're flipping a few pancakes when you hear shuffling. The girl walks into the kitchen and sits at the table, eyeing you and the bacon sitting in front of her. She takes a piece of bacon and bites off the end before turning to you. "You look like shit."

You sigh, resigned. "Look. I know we didn't start off that great yesterday. I'm sorry, it's my fault, I should've acted more maturely. Maybe we could start over?" She tilts her head to the side considering you. It's not really a cold look, but more… calculating. You see her eyes dart to the plate of pancakes in your hand and you smile a little. "I'll let you have some of these awesome pancakes."

"How do I know they're awesome?" Something flashes behind her eyes and you realize she's joking. You decide to take advantage of it.

"Everything I do is awesome," You tell her.

She smirks and you set the plate in front of her. You grab the syrup and sit across from her, reaching to put some pancakes on your plate. She follows your lead and practically drowns her pancakes in syrup. "Okay, these are pretty awesome," she admits after taking a few bites.

"How would you know, looks like you only have a mound of syrup over there."

She gives you a small smile. "Ha. Ha. Funny." You shrug. She looks up at you in between bites. "So. I'm Cassandra Velasquez. You can call me Cass."

You smile. "Santana Lopez, it's nice to meet you, Cass."

She rolls her eyes at you. "Right. I'm almost seventeen. I'm a junior in high school. I have no boyfriend, and I kind of hate my friends. I don't like sports. My dad is an alcoholic. He's in jail. Anything else you would like to know about me?"

You think about it. "Why do you kind of hate your friends?"

She shrugs. "They're my friends, but we're not that close. We pretty much just use each other." You nod; most of your friends were the same way.

"Okay. Well, I'm twenty-six. I have a degree in political science from NYU. I've lived in New York since I was nineteen. I've worked at Puckerman's for seven years. I am not in a relationship, and I admit that I am the 'one night stand type.' But… it's because I'm hot and you can't tie this down." You end with a smile and flourish to your body. You feel accomplished when you get a small laugh in response from Cass. You finish your breakfast in happier spirits.

Cass gets up and brings her plate to the kitchen. You follow her and see her standing there staring at something. You look and see it's a piece of paper that you immediately recognize as blonde Brittany's phone number. Shit. She gives you a confused look then sets it back on the counter and brings her plate to the sink. You watch her, but when she doesn't say anything, you shrug and rinse your plate, too.

"So… I was thinking I could show you around New York a little this weekend and a little bit next week before you start school." You see Cass nod as she dries her plate. "Cool. Is there anything specific you want to see?"

Cass thinks about it for a minute. "Central Park I guess?"

"Okay." You smile, that one is easy. And free. "Anything else?"

She shrugs. "I might think of something later."

"Alright. How about we get ready and go in about an hour?"

"Sure." Cass leaves the kitchen and a few minutes later you hear the shower running.

You grab the piece of paper she set on the counter with Brittany's number. You quickly put her number in your phone for later before throwing it out. You get ready and wait for Cass in the kitchen. She eventually appears in tight jeans and a sweatshirt, ready to go. You give her your cell number in case she needs to contact you and you get hers.

"You ever been in a cab?" You ask Cass when you get outside.

"No."

"Okay. You need to learn how to hail one. Don't worry it's easy." She looks at you, uncertainty showing in her dark eyes. You laugh a little. "Hey, it's no big deal. Plus, you're a girl, and you're young and hot. They'll stop for you, trust me. So here's what you do. You just step out into the street a little bit, but not too much, and raise your hand pointing up and out. Easy. Okay, go."

Cass looks at you like you're stupid, but accepts the challenge with a smirk. She saunters toward the curb and takes one step into the street, raising her arm. A few cabs pass her by, but one pulls over pretty quickly. She looks back at you and you raise your eyebrows. She follows you into the cab and you tell the bus driver to take you to 72nd and central park, west side. Then you settle back into the seat and nudge the girl beside you. "See, told you."

"Whatever." She rolls her eyes but smiles a little. You watch her face as she observes the city passing by out the window. You wonder what Cass has been through with her mom dying and her dad being an alcoholic and a drug user. You thought you had it bad when you were her age, but you're starting to reconsider.

You see Central Park up on your right, and eventually you reach 72nd. You pay the driver and get out, Cass following you. You walk in the park and laugh at Cass' expression.

"This is a huge park."

"Yeah, I know. Come on." You decide to walk her past The Lake and the Boathouse because they're pretty well known. There are a lot of people out today, considering it's kind of chilly.

You point out the Boathouse to her and she says she recognizes it from some movie, but she can't remember which one. You're walking past The Lake and the sun is sinking lower in the sky. It's peaceful. There are a few ducks gliding across the water and you wonder how much longer it'll be until they're gone. The water is going to freeze soon.

"Did you ever read Catcher in the Rye?" Cass asks you.

"No."

"Oh. Okay, never mind."

You walk past two kids playing Frisbee, their laughs echoing after you. You remember there's that Strawberry Fields Memorial thing pretty close to this area. "Do you like the Beatles?"

"Nope."

"No? Everyone likes the Beatles."

"Only old people." She smirks at you.

"I'm not old. I'm not even thirty."

"Right." She smirks at you. The sun is sinking behind the horizon and the park lights come on. You can see your breath in the air when you exhale. "Hey," Cass says. "Have you ever been to the top of the Empire State Building?"

"Yeah, it was one of the first things I did when I came here."

"Can we go there? I bet the view is awesome at night."

You think about it for a minute. "I have a better idea, actually. Come on."

You leave the park and head to the nearest subway station. Cass looks at you apprehensively, but you roll your eyes. "Look, you have to learn how to take the subway. That's how people get around here. It's too expensive to cab all the time." You go to a machine and buy two passes, then go to the right gate, sliding your passes through.

You explain the different lines and where they go to Cass on your way. "Don't take the red or green too far okay? And don't go too far into Harlem. Never go to Brooklyn unless you tell me first. Understand?" Cass nods, but rolls her eyes.

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can. Just trust me, okay?"

"Yeah, alright, alright."

"Okay, good. Hey this is us." You get off by Lexington and walk to 42nd.

"Where are we going?"

"The Chrysler Building. It's that pointy one up there."

Cass follows your finger and looks at you. "Why?"

"You'll see." You walk inside to where lots of tourists are buying tickets and waiting in lines to go up the elevator. You make your way to a desk, and ask the receptionist for Sam. She pages him, and he comes strolling up to you a few minutes later.

"Santana!"

"Hi, Sam!" You give him a hug and ruffle his blonde hair. "Sam, this is my niece, Cass."

Cass looks him up and down, one eyebrow cocked. "What's with your lips?"

Sam stares at her for a second before laughing. "Wow. She's just like you, San. Nice to meet you too, Cass." You laugh. "So, what can I do for you ladies?"

"Can you get us up to observation without paying?"

Sam thinks about it for a minute. "I don't know, San, it's kind of a busy night."

"Oh, come on, Trouty Mouth, every night's a busy night. Plus, you totally owe me for hooking you up last month."

Sam's lips curl into a smile. "That girl was super fine." You nod. "Alright. Follow me." You let Sam lead you down a few halls and to an employee elevator. "So how's Puck's?" Sam asks you on the way up.

"It's okay, same old."

"Is that one guy still hitting on you?"

"Jake? Yeah. But this one girl totally helped me out the other night. Hopefully it'll keep him away for a while."

Sam gives you a knowing look. "Right on. Okay here we are." You step out of the elevator into a small alcove with a door across from the elevator. Sam unlocks the door and leads you out into the observation area. "We have to keep that door locked so some of the tourists don't go exploring," Sam explains.

You nod. "Thanks, Sam, you rock."

"I know. I have to get back to work though. Bye guys. Nice meeting you, Cass." Sam went back the way he came and you lead Cass outside.

"How do you know that guy?" Cass asks you.

"I met him in college. He comes by the bar a lot."

"Oh. Trouty Mouth… that's a good one." You laugh and lead her around the side of the building, weaving in and out of people taking pictures of the New York skyline. "So why are we here?"

You find what you're looking for and push her up to the railing. Through the metal wire barricade, the sky is lit up and you point to one building standing higher than the rest. "I like to think this view is better because you can see it too."

Cass looks at you and then back out at the view. "That's the Empire State Building?"

"Yeah." You watch as her eyes widen and then soften and her lips form a small smile. The wind is whipping around you harder on this side of the building and you tug your jacket closer. You stand there for a few minutes and take in the view before moving around the building. You leave Cass to look at whatever she wants. You move around to the side overlooking the bay and further out, the ocean. You can't see much because it's dark, so it mostly just looks like an overwhelming cloud of black in the distance. Lights scattered across the water mark the Bay Bridge. The wind isn't as harsh here and you settle back, enjoying the peacefulness that comes with being this high up from the streets. The cars are tiny dots of light below you.

Eventually Cass comes to stand next to you and looks across the city too. She points to a soft golden speck in the distance. "What's that?"

You follow her finger. "The statue of liberty."

"That is? That tiny dot?"

"Yeah, it's far away. And it's hard to see that far through the haze of the city."

"Hmmm." You look out for a few more minutes until you notice Cass shivering.

"Come on, it's getting late." You head inside and ride down the normal elevator with the rest of the tourists. Once you get out onto the street, the sounds of New York hit you again. "My apartment is only a few blocks over from here."

You walk quietly for a few minutes until you're arriving at your apartment building. You're unlocking the door when Cass finally speaks. "Thanks for showing me that stuff. It was actually pretty cool."

You smile at her. "I'm glad you liked it." You hang up your jacket.

"Yeah." She looks at you awkwardly, like she wants to say something else, but can't. You wait, but eventually Cass just shakes her head. "Well, I guess I'll go to bed."

"Okay. Night." She heads down and the hall and softly closes the door.

You sigh in relief. Maybe you could do this after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:  
><strong>Hi readers! So here is the next chapter, it's kind of a filler, sorry! I know that people want more Brittana because there hasn't been much but don't worry, I'm building up to it! These things take time! Anyway, I have a few ideas in mind for later chapters, but if there is something specific you want to see happen, shoot me a review and I'll see if I can fit it in with what I have planned so far. Not sure when I will be able to update again, it being the holidays and all, but I'll do my best to keep you guys happy. Thanks for reading and reviewing, you guys rock :)

On Sunday you take Cass to the statue of liberty. You've actually never been there before so it's interesting for you too. It's a lot bigger than you thought it would be and it's really cool to imagine what it must've been like to see it for the first time when you've left your home country to come to this strange new free land. You wish you had something better to look at when you came to New York from the prison that was Lima, Ohio. All you had was your dorm room which was another prison in itself.

Cass acts like she doesn't give a fuck about what you're doing, but you can tell she's just putting up a front. You let her do her own thing as you walk around the tiny island surrounding the statue, but you keep watch on her from a distance. When you get back to Manhattan, Cass is mesmerized by all the street vendors. She stands in front of a young man who spray paints on a large canvas, strategically spraying and scraping and spinning the canvas until it becomes a picture, a story, a landscape. The people in the crowd watching him come and go, but she stands there for a long time. You let her watch because you're captivated by the look on her face. It's confusion and wonder and awe and disappointment and sadness all rolled into one look. Usually, you have no idea what she's really thinking. She hides behind this mask that you know was the price of shitty circumstances and experiences. Watching the young man, no older than twenty, you see all these emotions cross Cass' face and you're entranced. Finally, the man calls it a day and Cass returns to your side as you make your way to the subway. She is quiet and you leave her to her thoughts.

You make lasagna for dinner and you're placing some milk on the table when she asks you, "Does he make a lot of money doing that?"

You remember the man from the streets, but you wait for clarification. "Who?"

"That guy with the spray paint."

"Well, what was he selling them for? Thirty, thirty-five? Yeah, I guess he could make a fair amount of cash if he sold enough in a day."

"Hmmm." She pours herself a glass of milk. The dinner conversation is light, because you're starting to realize that once the topic starts to turn deep, Cass folds back in on herself and the bitch front comes out. If you're going to get through this whole situation in peace, you figure it'd be better to not bring anything serious up with her. If she wants to talk about it, she'll bring it up.

On Monday you call the local high school and enroll Cass in classes. She starts Wednesday. She rolled her eyes when you told her, but accepted the news nonetheless.

You get out of the shower to find a text from Kurt.

**Kurt: Lunch today, Satan?**

You contemplate the idea before replying.

**You: I don't know, Cass is here.**

**Kurt: Bring her along! Rachel and I are dying to meet her.**

**You: I'll ask her. One sec.**

You walk out of your bedroom and see Cass sitting on the couch watching Jersey Shore. You sit down next to her and laugh at the ridiculousness that is Snookie.

"What are you laughing at?" Cass raises her eyebrows at you.

"Snookie. She's a hot mess."

"Mmm, yeah, I guess so. I like her."

"I like JWoww." You smile as Cass gives you a strange look that says 'you're crazy.' But hey, you like her, she's the hottest one. "So… I have to work tonight." Cass makes a noise in acknowledgement. "Will you be okay here by yourself? I can make you dinner first or leave money for pizza or whatever."

"Yeah, either is fine. I'll just watch TV or something."

"Okay." You clear your throat. "Are you hungry now? My friends invited us to lunch, but we can just stay here if you want."

Cass tilts her head to the side as she looks at you. "Us?"

"Yeah, they want to meet you."

"Oh." She twists her lips in thought. "How many of them?"

"Two. Kurt and Rachel."

She nods. "Okay, sure."

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry." Cass deadpans.

"Okay, we'll live in fifteen."

**You: Meet you in thirty?**

**Kurt: Fabulous!**

You meet Kurt and Rachel at the same Italian place you always go to. You walk up to their table, Cass in tow.

"Hi, guys." They look up from their discussion as you sit down. Cass slides in next to you. "This is my niece, Cass. Cass this is Kurt and Rachel."

You watch as Cass takes them in, giving them the once over before staring at them, her gaze careful. It's somewhere in between judgmental and observant and you internally smirk as she raises one eyebrow at Kurt's outfit. In turn, you watch as Kurt tilts his head to the side and Rachel's lips part in surprise. Rachel is the first to recover.

"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, Cass. Wow, you look like just like Santana did in high school."

Cass looks at you, unsure. You shrug. "Uh… yeah, thanks, I guess. Nice to meet you, too."

"So, tell us, how do you like New York so far?" Kurt smiles excitedly.

Cass' eyes widen in amusement at his high pitched voice. "It's cool, I guess. Busy."

Kurt and Rachel nod in agreement. The waiter comes and takes your order, placing a basket of breadsticks on the table. You eagerly grab one.

Kurt rolls his eyes at you. "Calm yourself, Satan." He turns to Cass. "Santana has an unhealthy obsession with these breadsticks. Even though you can get as many as you want, she seems to think they are going to disappear if she doesn't devour the whole basket in a matter of five minutes."

"Don't diss the sticks, Lady Lips." Your insult doesn't have quite the delivery you want, as it is muffled by the breadstick in your mouth. Cass tentatively grabs one and rips off the end, nibbling it.

"Your natural ability to act like a lady astounds me, Santana."

"These are so freaking good." Cass moans out in appreciation. You smirk at Kurt.

Rachel laughs. "Well, I think that determines it, Kurt. These two are definitely related."

"Oh really, Rachel, what closed the case? Was it their uncannily similar looks, or their tendency to both eat like men?"

"To be frank, I think it was both of those in addition to the identical glares they're giving us right now."

Cass shoots you a look. "Ignore them," you tell her. "Berry, don't you have something better to do than criticize my eating habits. Something like, I don't know, complaining about your back up dancers or some shit?" You know the mention of her show will get her off your back.

"Actually now that you mention it Santana, you will never believe what happened! Remember how last week I told you that one of the dancers twisted their ankle wrong, and since it's so close to the show, we had to replace her? Well, we just acquired the most amazing dancer to fill her spot! You should hear the way Jesse raves about her, and the choreographer, Mike, is overjoyed. She picked up all the dances in a matter of hours, and I no longer feel uneasy about the dancers being behind in the second number because her presence alone seems to have improved the rest of the dancers immensely!" Rachel finally finishes and you roll your eyes.

"That's great, Rach." You try to sound pleased, because hey, at least she isn't nagging you anymore. Plus, her long rant gave you the opportunity to eat more breadsticks.

"Are you on Broadway?" Cass asks.

Rachel huffs. "No, it is an off-Broadway production." Then, seeming to gain some optimism, she sits up straighter. "However, the show is supposedly phenomenal, and I know with the help of some positive reviews and an exceptional audition, Broadway is in my future." Rachel smiles brightly.

Cass looks at her skeptically, but shrugs it off and reaches for another breadstick. "And what do you do?" She looks to Kurt.

"Oh, I just own a small fashion boutique, it's nothing really."

Rachel snorts. "Don't listen to him. He has lines in Paris and Madrid."

You watch as that look passes over Cass' eyes again. Not really judging, but not merely observant. She nods and your food comes. You're finishing up the meal when Rachel turns to Kurt. "Actually Kurt I was wondering if you could stop by the theatre. There was a small wardrobe malfunction in one of my dresses for the second act, and I don't really trust my costume manager because last time she fixed a small rip in one of my dresses, it later turned into a rather large rip and well… I'd really appreciate it if you could take a look at it for me."

"Of course." He turns to you. "Do you guys want to tag along and we could grab coffee or ice cream afterward?"

You look to Cass, who shrugs. "Sure." You pay for the meal and follow Rachel and Kurt onto the subway and to the theatre.

When you arrive, you follow Rachel to the stage and sit down on it, legs hanging over the edge, not really interested in the costume tragedy.

"Want to see backstage?" Rachel asks Cass. She nods and follows Kurt and Rachel behind the curtains. You look out to the empty audience and allow yourself to reminisce about your time in glee club with Rachel during high school. You were hesitant to admit it back then, but you loved glee. You remember the first time you came to New York for nationals and you and Rachel decided you would come back here and fulfill your dreams. You didn't really have any except to get away from Lima. You're glad Rachel is on her way to living hers, though. She deserves it.

You're broken from your thoughts as Rachel sits next to you. "Kurt is showing Cass all the set and stuff. She was especially enthralled by the backdrop that was painted for a few scenes, so I let them be." You nod. "She reminds me of you, San. Possibly a little… tamer than you were, though." She laughs.

"Yeah, I guess. She doesn't say much."

"I'm sure she just needs time to adjust."

"Yeah, probably."

"Rachel? You're here early!" A voice says from behind.

"Oh, yeah, I was just getting my friend to take a look at that hem problem in the dress for the second act you know? What are you doing here?"

"I just came to practice a bit, you know, make sure I have all the numbers down."

"Oh, you're doing great. In fact I was just telling my friend Santana here about how quickly you picked them up! Santana this is that dancer I was telling you about!" You turn around and are met with familiar blue eyes.

"Brittany?"

"Santana!"

Rachel looks from you to Brittany and back again. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Brittany laughs and smiles at you. "Totally." You nod and smile in agreement.

"Oh, well then. I'm going to go check on Kurt." Rachel scurries off and Brittany sits down next to you. She lets one leg hang over the edge of the stage and pulls one knee up to her chest. Her hair is in a messy ponytail. You still think she's ridiculously cute.

"So…" She says.

"So…"

"You never called me." She tilts her head to the side, her lips curving up in a playful smile.

You scrunch your nose in embarrassment. "Yeah, I've been super busy. I totally forgot." She nods understandingly. "Thanks for the coffee though." You nudge her shoulder.

"You're welcome."

"So you're a dancer?" You remember her dancing at Puck's and your eyes trail down her long long long legs to where her fingers are playing the bottom frayed edge of her sweatpants.

"Yeah. I work as a PE teacher at a high school full time, but I know the choreographer, and he can get me jobs here and there dancing. I'd much rather be dancing full time, but it's so hard to get a job with all the other talent out there." Her eyes sparkle and you smile encouragingly at her.

"I find that hard to believe. You should have heard the way Rachel was going on about you. I swear she was about to start telling me you're the dancing reincarnation of Jesus or something."

Brittany giggles and rolls her eyes. "She's just used to the girl before me who isn't that great."

"No, seriously. She probably has a lady crush on you." You laugh and roll your eyes.

"Jealous?" Brittany raises her eyebrows at you and bites her lip in this really adorable way that makes your heart flutter strangely.

You smile playfully. "Of course." Brittany laughs and pushes your shoulder. The doors of the theatre open as actors and dancers start to arrive. Brittany stands up.

"Well, it was good seeing you Santana."

"Yeah, you too." She turns to walk away and you get this uneasy feeling in your chest. Impulsively you stand up and yell, "Brittany!"

She turns around and cocks her head to the left. "Yeah?"

"Are you busy Thursday night?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Do you want to… will you go out with me?" You stick your hands in your pockets and try to fight down the warmth creeping up your neck as you realize how totally un-smooth you're being right now.

Brittany eyes light up and her lips curve into a huge smile. "Yeah, I'd like that." You forget your embarrassment when you see her reaction.

"Okay, I'll text you the details."

"Sounds awesome. Bye, Santana."

"Bye, Brittany."

You smile as you walk backstage to find your friends and Cass. You have a date with cute, sexy, smiley Brittany. As you approach them, your smile fades when you hear the end of Kurt telling a story. "And that's how Santana got a black eye!"

"Kurt! You did not just tell them about when I fell off the table!"

"No, I told them about how you got drunk at that frat house, did a very accurate impersonation of Britney Spears during Crazy, and _then_ fell off the table, therefore giving yourself a black eye." Cass snickers and you shoot Kurt a glare.

"I fucking hate you."

"Santana!" Kurt exclaims, pretending to be offended. "There are children around, what would your mother think of that mouth of yours!"

"You know damn well what she'd think Porcelain so shut the fuck up."

"Fuck you, Kurt I'm not a child." Cass smiles teasingly at him.

"I cannot believe you two." Kurt rolls his eyes and Rachel laughs. He finishes sewing Rachel's costume and you head out to get ice cream. Kurt leaves you after that and you walk back to the apartment in silence, happily licking at your cone.

Cass breaks the silence as you unlock the door to your apartment. "Does Kurt have a boyfriend?"

Your eyes widen in shock. "Actually, he just got married to his husband, Blaine."

"Hmmm." You watch for her reaction, but she just shrugs. "That's cool." You smile in relief. But then she continues. "So when were you going to tell me you were gay? You stare at her, unsure of what to say or how she found out. "Kurt let it slip," she explains. "We were looking at the set and he was telling me about how this one girl you used to know was an artist. He said that she gave you a painting and it freaked you out so you broke up with her and that he never really could understand the artist types."

"Oh." You don't really know what to say.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No." You smile in an attempt to make light of the conversation. "I thought we already determined I'm the one-night-stand type."

She snorts. "Oh, yeah." She's looking at you with that calculating look again. "You don't really look like you'd be gay."

"I have a hidden stash of flannel in my closet," you deadpan.

Cass smirks. "Cute. Well, I'm going to go watch more Jersey Shore. Don't you have work or something?" She moves to the couch and you watch her go in bewilderment.

"Uh. Yeah." You start to walk to your room when she calls out to you.

"Hey, Santana?"

You stop. "Yeah?" You're holding your breath, preparing for the judgment that will undoubtedly come.

"I don't care, you know." You breathe out in relief. "No soy mi abuela, comprendes?"

You smile. "Sí. Gracias Cass."

"De nada."

You walk into your bedroom and shut the door, leaning on it. You're not exactly sure how this happened, but you take it in stride, smiling hugely. You didn't realize how nervous you'd been for Cass to act exactly as your mother had. You were accepted by someone in your family. This was something that you hadn't ever experienced, and it felt amazing. You laugh quietly when you remember that you have a date with Brittany on Thursday. This had been quite the day for you.

You push off the door and start getting ready for work. Not even some douchebag at the bar can ruin this day for you, and you smile the whole time you're getting ready. You even find yourself not caring that while you're in the shower, Cass can probably hear you softly singing.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Hi readers! Sorry it took so long to update, I was distracted by the holiday and family and stuff. You know how it is. Also, I have been experiencing writer's block with this story. I thought I knew where I wanted to go with it, but then I started writing and realized it's not really fitting my expectations. So if anyone has ideas with where they'd like to see the story go, feel free to make some suggestions, because as of now, I'm out if ideas. Also, I might take a break from this story and start a new one that can be more accommodating to the original plan I had for this fic. So sorry if I don't update for awhile, but I'm just completely out of ideas for this story. Anyway, here's Brittana's first date. Enjoy.

Wednesday you wake up to the blaring of your alarm. You groan and restrain yourself from chucking it at the wall. You haven't woken up to an alarm in so long, never having the need since you typically have no obligations until early evening. You roll out of bed and into the shower, attempting to wash the sleep from your eyes. You finish getting ready and make yourself some coffee. After the caffeine kicks in, you're awake enough to realize that Cass isn't up yet.

"Cass!" You yell knocking on her door. "You're going to be late!" You hear a muffled reply and a thump and assume she got her ass out of bed. She stumbles into the kitchen a minute later, hair a mess and in flannel pajama bottoms, and sits at the counter, motioning for your coffee. You pour her a cup and pass it to her, eyebrows raised as she takes a sip. "I didn't know you liked coffee."

Cass grunts at you and takes a few large gulps, before setting the cup down and trudging back to her bedroom. You deduce that, like you, she is definitely not a morning person. She returns twenty minutes later in jeans and a sweatshirt, hair straightened and looking slightly less grumpy. You pour her some cereal and tell her to eat so she has energy for her first day. She pushes the Frosted Flakes around the bowl with her spoon, but doesn't eat much.

"Nervous?" You look at her over your coffee cup. She shrugs and continues pushing the cereal around the bowl.

You walk Cass to the front of the school and she nervously eyes the doors at the top of the front steps. You watch her grip on the straps of her backpack tighten. "Want me to come in with you?"

Her gaze shifts to you before returning to apprehensively staring at the doors. "I can do it." You think that translates into _yes, but I don't want to need your help_.

"I probably should, just in case." For her sake, you pretend not to notice the relieved expression that flits across her features. You lead Cass up the steps and through the halls to the principal's office. After waiting a few minutes, you're allowed to see him.

Your meeting with him is short. He basically just explains the rules and allows Cass to pick out a few electives that she'll take in addition to her core classes. You see her grimace when the principal tells her she'll have to take gym. You're aware of her internal debate on whether she could get away with taking Spanish and shoot her a pointed look that receives a guilty look in response. She decides to take Astronomy and Drawing and Painting 1 and then the principal hands her a schedule and reminds her of the rules again. Once outside his office, you find the hallway empty and know that first period has already started. Cass is staring at her schedule.

"Well, you better get to your first class."

She nods and looks up at you, her face neutral. "Okay." It comes out quieter than you expected it would and realize she's doing her best to hide how nervous she is from you.

"Do you want me to come get you after school or can you find your way home?"

She shrugs. Her voice is still hoarse when she says, "I think I can make it back by myself."

You nod, completely unsure of what to say to make her less nervous. You feel awkward. You feel nervous for her. Is it supposed to feel like this? You barely know the girl. You feel so responsible for her and can't help the worry that creeps into the back of your mind at leaving her here in this unknown school with new people and classes. The sensation is strange to you. To dispel your own discomfort, you put your arm around her shoulder and squeeze. Her body tenses and you quickly remove your arm from her shoulders and clear your throat. "Well, have a good first day."

She seems to find some resolve because she nods and says, "Yeah, okay. Bye Santana." You smile and watch as she walks down the hall before making your way back home.

You pretty much do nothing all day. You watch TV and pay some bills and just sit on the couch and think. You think about work. You think about how you don't completely hate your job like so many people do. You think about how you'll never love it because there are always some jack asses who think it's acceptable to hit on you and how you always have to work late so you never get to just go out and let go for a night like all the customers you see every day are doing. You think about how you should've done something more to get a job after college. You think about how maybe you should've majored in something besides poli-sci because you really have no idea what to do with that degree. You think about how you never go back to Lima to see your family because they hate you. You think about how that sucks because maybe if you were able to get back more you'd know that your sister had a kid. You realize that one might not be true because you were still in Lima when Cass was born, but whatever. You think about high school and college and how all the relationships you were in during those times all ended up leaving you a mess. You think about how you have way too many one night stands and how you never let them stay long enough for breakfast and how you sometimes want to because you're lonely, but you never have the courage to do anything more than fuck them until you can't remember why you're lonely, even if it's only for a few moments. You think about your last one night stand and suddenly realize it might not be a one night stand because you have a date with them tomorrow.

You start to panic a little bit. You have a date tomorrow. With someone you slept with. Will it be awkward? Maybe not, you already talked to her after without there being any awkwardness. Since you've already slept together, will you do it again? Except you have Cass now, you can't have sex with someone with Cass in the next room! Now that would be awkward. Crap. Are you allowed to go on a date now that you are responsible for a teenager? You're not sure and you're starting to think that all this thinking was the absolute worse way to spend your afternoon.

Your internal freak out is interrupted when the door opens and Cass walks in, dropping her backpack by the door. "Hey," you call out to her.

"Hi." She slumps down next to you on the couch, her eyes becoming immediately glued to the TV. "What are you watching?"

You try to remember what you were watching, but you've been lost inside your own head for hours and haven't been paying attention. "Uh… My Strange Addiction, I think. Or something like that. I don't know."

"Mmm."

"How was your first day?"

Her eyes are still on the TV and she just shrugs. "Fine, I guess."

"Do you like your classes?"

"They're okay. I hate gym. And math always sucks. Otherwise it's just school… you know?"

You remember. High school was boring. College… well the classes weren't that much better, but it was a lot more fun overall. "Yeah." You wonder if there are other questions you're supposed to ask. You try to remember what your mom always asked you after school. "Did you make any friends?"

You aren't expecting it when she says, "Maybe. I met this one girl who seems kind of cool."

You smile at that. "That's great." Then you smirk because you're hoping your next question will get you a reaction. "Any cute boys?"

Cass just shrugs again. "I don't know."

"Oh." You don't know what else to say so you just watch TV with her for awhile. "Do you have homework?" You ask after an hour or so.

"No. I think they didn't want to overwhelm me on the first day or something."

"Oh, well that's good." You pause. "Can I ask you a question?"

She looks over at you and gives you that calculating look. After a moment she says, "Okay."

You clear your throat. "Is it alright with you if I go out tomorrow?" You avoid her eyes. Did that sound as lame as you thought it did?

"Uh… I don't think you really have to ask my permission. This is your house." She gives you a questioning look.

"Well… yeah I know. I just wanted to see if it was okay with you, since you'll be here alone and… yeah." You could kick yourself for sounding so stupid.

"It's fine with me." Cass shrugs and goes back to watching Hoarders or whatever show is now playing. "Where are you going?" She turns to you after a few minutes.

"I have a date…"

Her eyes widen in surprise before quickly narrowing. "Wait. Like a date or like…" Her eyes shift and you understand what she's asking and you feel heat rushing up your face.

"Just a normal date, I promise. Dios mio she's not coming back… I mean, that would be so… uh… it's just… it's just a normal date…" you end lamely because you're really embarrassed and god, you wish you could wipe that smirk off her face. Fuck it all.

"Okay, I get it. Please stop before you die of embarrassment and I'm left an orphan." She rolls her eyes and your eyebrows furrow in thought at her words. What's the deal with that sarcasm? It's not funny. You sigh. Whatever.

"Right. I'll make dinner before I go to work."

"Okay." Cass offers you a sly grin.

You spend the rest of the evening and the night at work thinking of somewhere to take Brittany on your date.

You're frustrated. It's the best way to describe how you're feeling. You can't decide what to wear. You know that you texted Brittany earlier with the time of your date and to dress casual. You thought casual would be easy. You're finding out that it's not. You're wearing jeans, but you can't find a top. After finally tossing aside a white blouse you fall back on your bed with a huff, thinking maybe you'll just show up in a hoodie because you're out of ideas.

"What are you doing?"

You turn your head and see Cass leaning in the doorway. "Trying to decide what to wear."

She raises her eyebrows at you and moves to stand in front of the open door to your closet. "What kind of look are you going for?"

You sigh. "Casual?"

She turns to look back at you. "Where are you going?"

"I'm taking her to this cool place in Brooklyn that my friend showed me once. It's dinner, but it's not fancy or anything."

Cass looks at you thoughtfully. "So you're taking her out?" You nod. "Why not fancy then? Aren't you trying to impress her?"

"I don't know… I don't want things to be awkward."

"Why would they be awkward?"

You internally cringe. "I don't know, they just might be."

"Why?"

"They just might be!"

"Well there has to be a reason." She's staring at you and you don't like it.

"Stop being so nosy," you snap.

Her eyes widen. "Oh my god. You slept with her already, didn't you?"

"I… what?"

She starts laughing and you glare at her. "You totally did."

"Go away! Don't you have homework or some shit?"

"I already finished it." She rolls her eyes and turns back to your closet. "Okay, so you already slept with her, which means you need something casual," she shoots you a grins and you roll your eyes. "But you also want something that says sexy because you want her to want to sleep with you _again_."

"Cass, no. I already told you that isn't going to happen tonight."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't make her want it to happen." She shrugs like it's obvious and you stare at her dumbfounded. Who was this kid and why was she lecturing you on how to dress for your date? Aren't you supposed to do that for her? And without the implications of someone having sex? You watch as she ruffles through some shirts hanging in the closet. Then she turns around, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. "Perfect!" She tosses you a black off-the-shoulder blouse.

You pull it on and look in the mirror. It does look pretty good and you scowl, hating to admit that Cass was right. Her face appears next to yours in the mirror and she tilts her head to the side, considering your outfit. Then she nods and smiles. "See? You look hot."

You scoff and look at your watch. Shit, you have to go now. You're bordering on late. "Whatever. I'm leaving now.

"Aww, but what about my thank you?"

"Go watch TV and try not to burn the place down when you're done." You hand her some money. "Here. Order pizza or something."

"How about a 'thank you for helping me, Cass'?"

"Don't stay up too late. You have school tomorrow." You grab your purse and head for the door.

"Sure, but what about 'thanks Cass, you are the best niece in the whole world for making the girl I already slept with want to sleep with me again'?" You roll your eyes, halfway out the door. "Santana!"

"What?" You look back.

She's standing behind the couch, hands in her pockets, and a small, but genuine smile on her face. It's weird to see something there besides that goddamn smirk. "Good luck."

"Thanks Cass. See you later." You shut the door behind you, a smile playing at your lips.

You meet Brittany outside of Puckerman's. She's already there when you walk up and you hope she hasn't been waiting long because it's cold. November is right around the corner.

"Hey," you smile at her as she sees you walk up.

"Hey yourself." She smiles back at you and marvel at the way it reaches all the way to her blue eyes.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, where are we going?"

"It's in Brooklyn. Mind if we take the subway?"

"No, that's fine." The walk to the train and the ride to Brooklyn are filled with small talk. The subway is pretty packed, but you feel at ease talking with Brittany. When you finally get off and arrive at the restaurant, you're starving.

Brittany tilts her head, eyeing the name of the restaurant. "Mac's?"

You smile. "I know it sounds lame, but they're famous for their mac n cheese. It's amazing." You turn to the hostess. "Hi, I have a reservation. Under Lopez." The host crosses you off her list and leads you to a booth. You sit across from Brittany and the hostess hands you a menu and tells you the waiter will be with you shortly.

"So… how did you find this place?" Brittany smiles at you over the menu.

"My friend from college brought me here once."

"Was it a date?" Brittany laughs and you feel your heart beat a little faster at the sparkle in her blue eyes.

"No…" She raises one eyebrow at you. "Ok, it was a friends with benefits type thing," you finally admit with an embarrassed smile.

Brittany chuckles at you and a thoughtful look crosses her face. "I've never done this before."

You look at her questioningly. "You've never been on a date before?" Oh my god. What if you slept with her and she's never even been on a date? Fuck.

She laughs. "No, no. I've been on a lot of dates." She grimaces for a second. "I've just never… you know." You raise your eyebrows. "I've never been on a date with a girl before." Brittany's cheeks burn red and you would think it was the most adorable thing ever except for the fact that you slept with her and she's never been with a girl before and shit. Well… actually it's still the most adorable thing ever. But still. Shit.

"Really?" It's kind of hard for you to believe. She seemed so confident and sure when she was flirting with you before.

She nods and the waiter appears at your table. Damn those waiters and their impeccable timing. "Hello ladies. My name is Ben. What can I get for you?"

You look to Brittany to order first but she doesn't seem to know what to order. "I'll have a signature mac and a glass of your house wine," you tell the waiter.

"I'll have what she's having," Brittany says when the waiter turns to her.

"Okay, we'll have that out as soon as possible." The waiter takes off to go put your order in. You turn back to Brittany, who smiles shyly at you and tucks her blonde hair behind her ears. She bites her lip nervously and you can't decide if you want to take away her nervousness or let her be nervous all night because her expression is so damn cute. You decide not to torture her.

"Well, how is it going so far?"

"How's what going?"

"Your first date with a girl."

She smiles. "It's good so far."

"Just good?" You joke with her.

She smiles coyly. "The night's still young." You laugh lightly as the waiter brings your wine over.

"So how long have you worked at the bar?" Brittany asks you after a minute.

"About seven years."

"Wow, that's a long time. You must like it if you haven't left."

You consider this. Nobody has ever made a suggestion like that to you before. When people find out, they usually ask you why you haven't looked for a better job. You like working at Puck's for the most part. It's good money and Puck is like your brother. Sometimes you wished it wasn't so mundane, though. "It's okay," you finally reply.

Brittany nods and your eyes meet her piercing blue ones. It's weird. It's like she's seeing inside of you, delving into the depths of your brain and trying to figure you out. Your staring contest is broken by the arrival of your food. You dig in quickly, trying to ignore the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh my god." You look up to see Brittany staring at her fork. "This is so good."

You laugh. "Told you."

The remainder of dinner is occupied by small talk and the clinking of forks against plates. You grab the check when it comes and refuse Brittany's pleas to pay. After tipping the waiter, you walk outside.

The night air is chilly, but it's surprisingly not too cold. "Want to go for a walk?" You turn to Brittany.

"Yeah," she smiles at you. You cross the street and turn the corner, heading toward a place near the bridge where you can see the skyline. It's lit up and you marvel at the dominating buildings in the distance.

Brittany sighs next to you. "I never get tired of looking at it." Her gaze is fixed on the view. You nod in agreement.

"Where are you from?"

"Colorado," Brittany says. You smile. You've never been to Colorado, but you can see Brittany being there, among the mountains and the prairies. "What about you?"

"Ohio."

"Oh, what brought you here?"

Her blue eyes are filled with interest. "I just needed to get away."

She's giving you that look again, like she's trying to see into you. Eventually she just nods. "Yeah I know what that's like." You want to ask her what she means, but she cuts you off. "Have you ever been to a fair?" She asks you.

"Yeah?" That was random.

"Sometimes, New York makes me feel like a fair does. With all the lights and the people and the sounds. It's a little overwhelming." She pauses. "When I was like… sixteen, I think, my boyfriend took me to a fair once. It was being held at the high school. He kept paying for me to play the games and all that stupid cute stuff." She smiles at you and rolls her eyes. "Anyway. He wanted to play me in skee-ball. And we played like ten times and he got mad at me because I kept winning. And then he was grumpy for the rest of the night. When he dropped me off, we had a fight, and then he broke up with me the next day." She shakes her head and laughs. "It was so stupid. I didn't even care back then because all I remember feeling was proud that I was so awesome at skee-ball."

"What a jerk." Then suddenly, you have an idea. "Oh my god. Britt! Follow me!" You turn and walk off in the direction you came in. Brittany gives you a confused look, but follows you.

"Santana? Where are we going?"

"Just trust me!" You walk another block and arrive at the place you're looking for. You drag Brittany inside the bar and are met with the sounds of loud cheering. You lead her to the source of the noise and push her in front of a crowd of who look to be in their twenties. "See?"

Brittany tilts her head to the side and smiles at you. It's the biggest smile you've ever seen and it makes your heart melt a little. Her eyes light up and she laughs, her enthusiasm mirroring one of a kid in a candy store.

"Cool, San!" The two of you are standing in front of a row of skee-ball machines. You push her up to an empty one and dig in your pocket for a few coins.

"Here, Britt. Play a few games while I go get us some drinks." She smiles and eagerly puts some of the coins into the machine. You hear the balls roll down and you leave her to it. You order your drinks and are bringing them back to Brittany, when the crowd of men surrounding the machines lets out a loud cheer. You push your way through them and see Brittany swinging her arm back before bringing it forward and releasing the ball. You watch as it rolls up the length of the machine and pops into the 100,000 point slot in the corner. The men around you cheer again, and you look on in amazement as Brittany smiles and turns to take a bow in front of them. You reach her and give her one of the beers in your hand.

"Thanks, San." She smiles at you again.

"Sure. How'd you do that?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's easy. Hey, play me?"

You spend the night facing Brittany in skee-ball and losing every time. Brittany somehow manages to roll her balls in the 100,000 slot almost every time. Your ball keeps going into the default ring that gets you 1,000 points for missing. You suck and you think it's the most fun you've had in forever. You can't stop laughing.

Finally, Brittany pulls you out of the bar around midnight. You should probably get home and check on Cass anyway. The night has turned considerably colder and the wind bites at your hands. You blow on them in an attempt to warm them.

"That was so awesome, San." Brittany laughs and the sound brings a smile to your face. She takes your hands and rubs them in between hers. Then she drops them, but keeps your left hand in hers, lacing your fingers together as you walk to the subway station.

"I'm glad you liked it." You smile at the feeling of her hand holding yours. It feels really… nice.

You spend the ride home talking about how amazing Brittany is at skee-ball and how much you suck. You learn that she worked in an arcade as a teenager and had lots of practice when business was slow. From what you've learned, that job seems very Brittanyish.

You walk back to Puckerman's and stop in front of the bar. It's late and you wish you didn't have to go your separate ways.

Brittany flashes you that bright smile and your stomach flutters slightly. "I had a really great time tonight, Santana."

"Me too, Britt." You sigh. "I wish I didn't have to go."

"Yeah. I have to work early tomorrow, though." You nod. "Can I see you again?" You look up to a hopeful face and smile because you can't get over how cute Brittany is.

"Definitely," you smile at her.

"Awesome."

You laugh. "Goodnight, Brittany."

Brittany bites her lip quickly. Then she leans down and places a soft kiss on your cheek. You feel heat rush to the spot where her lips touched your skin. "Goodnight, Santana." Then she turns and walks away. You exhale and watch as a puff of air materializes into the night, before making your way back to your apartment.

You open the door quietly and see Cass asleep on the couch. You hang your jacket in the closet and then make your way over to her. You kneel down and gently shake her awake.

"Huh?" Her eyes flutter open.

"Hey. You fell asleep on the couch. You should go to your room."

"Oh." She rubs her eyes and stands up. When she reaches her bedroom she yawns and turns around. "How was your date?"

You smile and shrug. You can't think of words to describe it. She nods and closes her door behind her. When you finally get into bed, you smile happily to yourself. Just as your drifting off to sleep, the word comes to you. Perfect. Your date was perfect. And with that thought, you fall asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hi readers. So… sorry it took so long to get this out to you. I've been busy with finals and also had major writers block. I also started a new story, which I will post after I get a few more chapters written. This chapter doesn't have much Brittana because I was still setting it up, but don't worry, the next chapters will have lots more, I promise! Anyway, enjoy, and don't forget to leave me some suggestions if you have any ideas for this. I appreciated the few I did get, you know who you are. Happy reading!

"…And when I got home he was sitting on the front porch step with a cigar in his mouth! I didn't know it was possible, but there was Lord Tubbington just puffing away on his cigar like cats smoke every day."

"That's really weird Britt..."

You're sitting in a nice Italian restaurant with Brittany and it's your fourth date. It's been two weeks since your first date and this is the first time she took you out somewhere. You're really happy tonight. The food is delicious and you're starting to really, really like Brittany. You don't know what it is. Sure, Brittany is funny, but people have been able to make you laugh before. And yeah, she's like drop dead gorgeous, but you've dated pretty women in the past. You think it might be that way she bites her lip sometimes, or maybe how she scrunches her nose when she laughs. It could be the way she seems to understand the extra meaning behind your words sometimes that you hadn't even meant to put there.

Dinner is amazing. Brittany is amazing. Your smile is achingly huge as you walk back to Puckerman's hand in hand with her.

"Did you know Quinn and Puck went on a date?" Brittany asks you as you approach the bar.

"What? You're shitting me." This is news to you.

"Yeah, true story."

"When?"

"On Monday." You think back. Puck hadn't been at the bar on Monday. Damn. You were going to beat his sorry ass for keeping this from you.

"Wow."

"Yeah." You stop in front of the bar, and Brittany looks at you and bites her lip. It's unbearably cute, but you've learned that it's a sign she's nervous about something.

You squeeze her hand. "What's wrong?"

Her cheeks are red and you can't tell if it's from the cold air or if she's blushing. "Well… nothing's wrong, San."

Brittany doesn't seem to be finished with whatever follows that statement, but she doesn't keep talking either. "Okay…"

"I just…" she clears her throat nervously. "I really like you, Santana."

You tilt your head to the side. "I really like you too, Britt."

She smiles at you. "I know we've only known each other for a few weeks, and we've only gone on like a few dates… but you make me feel really weird inside."

You raise your eyebrows. What was that supposed to mean? "Umm…"

"Not like a bad weird… like, a good weird."

You're really confused. "Okay…"

Brittany sighs and bites her lip again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… Will you be my girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen. Brittany wants to be your girlfriend? What? Shit. You haven't had a girlfriend since college. Brittany has never even had a girlfriend. What is this? Is someone pranking you?

"I mean… it's okay if you don't want to be…" Brittany looks at you with those blue eyes and they're so big and… fucking blue and sad and… shit. Brittany is worried you don't like her. But you like her so fucking much. The last thing you want is for her to be sad because you have commitment issues.

"No, Britt. Oh my god. I like you a lot, and you give me that weird feeling inside too." You smile at her. Commitment issues be damned, you like her and maybe Rachel is right. Maybe you need to start trying to settle down. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend."

The smile that breaks over Brittany's face makes your heart warm and you know you made the right decision. Brittany leans down and kisses you and the act has your lips tingling. She starts to pull away, but you lean forward trying to keep your lips attached as long as possible. She laughs a little and leans back into the kiss. You continue kissing for a few minutes, but the night air is nipping at your ears and you know Brittany has to work tomorrow so you eventually pull back and let your forehead rest against hers, eyes closed.

Brittany sighs and tucks your hair behind your ear and finally you open your eyes to find blue ones staring down at you adoringly. "Goodnight, Santana."

"Goodnight Brittany." She kisses you one last time and squeezes your hand before walking in the direction of her apartment.

You smile as you make your way into your own apartment, but it falters when you see movement from down the hall. You narrow your eyes in confusion and then tense when you see a teenage boy walking towards you, gaze fixed on his hands as he buttons his shirt. He looks up and when he sees you his eyes go wide.

"Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you in my apartment?"

The boy opens and closes his mouth in shock, his hand reaching up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck. "I… uh… crap." You raise your eyebrow at him, scowl firmly in place. "Hi, you must be Cass' aunt. I'm Greg." He reaches his hand toward you and you're slightly impressed at his newly gained confidence, but that doesn't mean he's off the hook. You shake his hand, but still give him a stern look as he pulls back.

"Right. Now why are you here?" You think it's pretty obvious why he's here and what he's been doing with your niece, but you think it will be worth it to watch him squirm a little before you send him home.

"I… see… Cass and I… ummm." He falters under your gaze. "We were studying?" He finally gets out.

"At midnight?"

"It was Astronomy homework?" He smiles sheepishly at you. "We're in the same Astronomy class."

"Right," you say again. "Well, Greg, don't you think it's a little late to be out on a school night?"

"Yes ma'am. I should probably get going." He makes his way over to the door, but you're not done with him yet.

"Hold up." He stops with his hand on the door. "Look, Greg. I'm not an idiot. I would prefer that we didn't mean this way, but since we did, here's the deal. If you get my niece pregnant, I will _endz_ you. Do I make myself clear?"

Greg blushes and clears his throat. "Yes, Ms. Lopez, I'm very sorry. I promise I won't."

You shoot him a hard stare before finally nodding. "Alright. You can go now."

The boy nods at you again and scurries out the door. You sigh in frustration. Is this really how it's going to go down? Cass just got here and she already found a hookup? What the fuck. You can feel a headache coming on and decide you'll deal with this tomorrow. You pop in some aspirins and a half hour later, you're passed out in bed.

The next morning, you wake up late and realize Cass already left for school. You shuffle into the kitchen and make some coffee before settling down at the kitchen table where the newspaper is already open. You flick through it and notice a piece of printer paper sticking out from in between two of the pages. Curious, you flip through the pages until you find it. Before you is an intricate sketch of the New York skyline. The details are impeccable. You notice the sketch is a replica of a black and white photo under an article in the paper. The drawing is almost exactly like the picture, but you notice a few changes to the details that actually make the work of art greater than the original.

You stare down at the sketch in awe and confusion. Did Cass do this? You remember her signing up for a beginning art class at school, but the sketch in front of you has without a doubt surpassed a beginner's work. Even against the harsh background of the printer paper, it looks amazing.

You had no idea Cass was an artist. And clearly she's a fucking good one. You can only imagine what the sketch would look like if it was on sketch paper and maybe drawn with some pastels or something. Suddenly, an idea strikes you. You remember Cass mentioning a few days ago that her birthday was next week. You shower and get ready before leaving the apartment. You have a few errands to run.

You get back to the apartment a little before Cass should be getting home. You stuff your purchases in your closet and settle down in front of the TV. A few minutes later, the door opens and Cass appears, looking disheveled.

"It's freaking cold out there," she grumbles as she puts her backpack by the table and hangs her coat in the closet. You make a noise in agreement and wait for her to take her usual seat next to you on the couch, ready to watch Jersey Shore.

"So…" you begin as she settles down into the cushions. "How was school?"

She shrugs. "It was okay."

"Mhmmm. And how was Astronomy?"

She shoots you a confused you look that tells you she doesn't know about your little meeting last night. "Fine…"

"No quizzes or tests?"

"No… why?"

You smirk. "Well, I just figured since you and _Greg_," you put emphasis on his name, "were studying so late last night that you probably had something going today."

You watch as her eyes widen in horror before her face returns to its usual defensive mask. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I caught you. Give it up." She scowls and avoids your gaze. "Look. Obviously it's not okay that you're bringing guys home when I'm not here. But I'm more concerned that you're being safe. And like, you just moved here, and so you obviously just met the guy and I'm uncomfortable that you're having sex so soon."

Cass snorts. "This coming from the queen of one night stands."

A nasty retort is on your tongue when you realize you have to be the mature one here. You swallow the words and choose a different angle. "I realize I'm not the best role model, but this isn't about me. This is about you. I just want you to make smart decisions." You watch as she visibly softens a bit. Cautiously, you continue. "I don't want you to end up like your dad, you know? I care about you."

She narrows her eyes at you. "You don't know me."

You think back to her defensive attitude, the way she had her walls up when you first met her. You remember her smirks as she teases you, the insults that you know are just distractions. You see her deep chocolate eyes that remind you of looking into a mirror. And you think she's wrong. "Yeah. I do."

She scoffs at you, but it doesn't stop you from continuing. "Cass, it's your life and you can do what you want with it. I know that I won't be able to stop you from bringing guys here when I work late shifts. I just want you to be careful and consider the consequences of your actions before you make decisions, okay?"

Her expression remains stony, but she gives you an almost imperceptible nod. You sigh in relief and pick up the sketch that you placed on the coffee table. "Great. Now that we've talked about that… what's this?"

She looks at the sketch and shrugs. "Nothing really."

You raise your eyebrows. "It doesn't look like nothing. Why didn't you tell me you were an artist?" She shrugs again. "Why are you only in the beginning drawing program at school? You're clearly better than that."

She sighs like she doesn't really want to talk about it. "I'm actually not anymore. The teacher swapped my schedule around and put me in the AP class."

Your eyes widen in shock. "That's awesome. Why didn't you tell me?"

You see something flicker in her eyes. "I don't know. Can we not talk about it?"

"Why not?"

She huffs. "I don't know. Just… god. How'd your date go last night?"

You smile. "It was amazing. But you can't change the subject that easily." She meets your eyes with an uneasiness you haven't seen in her expression before. "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask again.

She takes a deep breath. "I just…" She trails off. Takes a deep breath. Starts again. "I'm just not used to people caring about what I do, okay?" You narrow your eyes in concern.

"What about your dad?"

"He just wasn't there a lot, and when he was, he was drunk off his mind. I showed him one of my drawings once and he just stared at it in confusion before passing out on the couch." She shrugs like it doesn't bother her, but you can tell it does.

"Well, I'm not him, okay?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, okay. It's not a big deal though." You nod just to appease her. "So, why was it amazing?" She asks after a minute.

You look at her in confusion. "Why was what amazing?"

"Your date."

"Oh." You smile, remembering the night. "Well, I have a girlfriend now."

Cass exaggerates a gasp. "You mean, a _real_ girlfriend? Not just a hot lay?"

You push her shoulder. "Shut up. Yes."

She laughs lightly at you. "Well then. When do I get to meet her?"

Oh. You hadn't really thought about that. In fact, you hadn't even told Brittany about Cass. Crap. Maybe you should do that. "I don't know. Sometime this week, I guess?"

She nods her head in response. "Okay."

"Okay." You push up off the couch and set about making dinner. That conversation went better than you planned. You really do care about Cass, and after she said that stuff about her dad, you feel your heart go out to her even more. You hope that she will make good decisions and you decide not to worry about it for now. Now, you only have one worry on your mind. Cass meeting Brittany. Yeah. Well. You guess you'll just have to see how that one turns out. You feel happy with knowledge that you have things to look forward to this week. For now, you'll just focus on getting through work tonight. You think about how you'll get to grill Puck about his date. With that thought, you dive into making dinner, a smirk on your face.


	8. Chapter 8

"I just don't get why we have to do this."

You snort and continue setting the table. "You're the one who wanted to meet her."

"Yeah, but I thought it could be like, a short introduction or something. Not a big sit down dinner type thing." You look over your shoulder to see Cass haphazardly chopping through some lettuce. Maybe you shouldn't have put her in charge of the salad. She's going to lose a finger.

"Please be careful with that knife, I don't want to take you to the ER when you cut off your finger." You sigh. "Brittany really wants to meet you anyway."

She stops chopping and looks at you with pleading eyes. "Yeah, but this is going to be so awkward. We could've at least gone to a restaurant or something. Why couldn't we go to that one Italian place we always go to?"

You roll your eyes. Last week you told Brittany about Cass and explained the situation and ever since then she's been super excited about meeting the girl. So now here you are, preparing dinner and counting down the minutes until Brittany gets here so Cass will stop complaining.

"Because we're going out tomorrow for your birthday." You hope this will shut her up, but of course it doesn't.

"I don't need a nice birthday dinner, seriously. Plus, you have to work tomorrow and I know it will be easier if we stay in and order pizza or something."

"I don't work until 11:30, it's not really a big deal." You stir the sauce on the stove and check to make sure the pasta isn't overcooking. A glance at the clock tells you Brittany should be here any minute now. "What is this about? You were the one who suggested meeting her."

Cass throws the lettuce into a bowl and starts to add some dressing and croutons, tossing it around. "Nothing. I just… it's awkward, you know?"

"No, not really."

She avoids your eyes and continues tossing the salad. "Just… one time my dad brought his new girlfriend over and she kept giving me these weird looks like I shouldn't be there and I felt like she was resenting me for what my dad does and being a reminder of like, my mom and shit. It was just really awful."

"K first, language." You turn off the stove, not wanting to burn the sauce. "Second – I think you tossed that salad enough – second, this totally different. It's going to be fine."

Cass wipes her hand on a towel and turns to look at you. "Okay. Sorry, I'm just… really stressed. I don't want her to get the wrong impression of me. I don't look like a… like a slut, do I?"

Your eyebrows involuntarily shoot up your forehead. She's wearing jeans and a simple black shirt. "I'm not answering that."

"Come on, I'm being serious!" You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. "Stop laughing."

The doorbell rings and you shoot a glance behind you as you walk to the door. "Seriously, Cass you're wearing jeans and like, barely even showing any cleavage. You almost look like Rachel did before I gave her a makeover, except without the weird sweaters."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind." You open the door and feel the air rush out of your lungs. Brittany smiles at you and she looks so gorgeous with her hair straightened and she's wearing this cute yellow dress under her open jacket and… wow.

"Hey." Her eyes twinkle as she smiles.

"Hi." It comes out a little breathlessly and you clear your throat.

You stand there staring for a few seconds before she giggles quietly. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" She asks with a playful smile.

"What? Oh… oh yeah. Come in, you have perfect timing, dinner is basically ready."

You lead her into the kitchen and Cass shoots you a smirk as you enter. "Smooth."

You feel immature, but you can't help but whisper, "Shut up, slut." The look on her face is priceless. "Just kidding." She glares at you, but it gives way to a small laugh. "Anyway… Cass this is Brittany. Britt this is my niece, Cass."

Cass turns around from the stove and you watch as her eyes widen and she freezes. You look at Brittany who has her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly parted. What the fuck.

"_Ms. Pierce?"_ Cass looks between you and Brittany. "Ay Dios mio."

"Umm." You're really confused.

"Well, this is awkward…" Brittany laughs, but you still have no idea what's going on.

"I'm really confused."

"_You're dating my PE teacher? For the love of God."_ Cass is clearly getting worked up and you almost laugh. Almost.

"I am?" You turn to Brittany.

"Yeah, totally. Third period, right?" She says to Cass with a small smile. Cass just nods and shoots you this halfway hysterical glare.

"Oh." There's a sizzling noise and you look over to see the water for the pasta boiling over. "Shit." You rush to the stove and turn the burner off before straining the pasta. "Cass hand me that bowl." She hands you a bowl and you pour the pasta in. When you turn around Brittany and Cass are both staring at you and you're starting to think maybe Cass was right about the whole going to a restaurant thing. "Well, the food is ready…" You say awkwardly.

Cass shoots you a look and pinches the bridge of her nose before turning around and grabbing some plates. She hands them to you and you start piling some pasta onto them.

"Hey, San, can I use your bathroom?" Brittany asks you.

"Yeah it's just down the hall. First door on the right."

As soon as Brittany's out of sight, Cass turns on you. "Seriously? Seriously? You're dating my _teacher_?"

"Shh." You hiss. "How was I supposed to know she's your teacher?"

"This is a disaster. I told you it would be awkward!"

You huff. "Only because you're making it awkward."

"Okay, but like, seriously, she's not even one of my good teachers. She's the gym teacher. She makes me run and sweat and be disgusting for the rest of the day. Seriously, Tía, come on." You smile slightly. You're not sure why, but lately Cass keeps calling you tía, which is fine, but it's kind of weird too. She always tacks it on at the end of a sentence when she's talking really fast. Or when she's complaining. She complains a lot.

"Oh please. Stop being a baby."

She crosses her arms and opens her mouth to say something, but the sound of the door opening down the hall stops her.

"Please, just be nice." You whisper.

"You owe me." She says under her breath as Brittany walks back into the kitchen.

"So. Who's ready to eat?" This is going to be a long night.

"So, Cass, do you like New York?" Brittany asks as you're finishing up dinner. So far, the meal has been nothing but awkward, just like Cass said, and you can't wait until it's over. Does that make you a bad person? You don't know, but you can't stand this much longer.

Cass looks up from where she's twirling pasta with her fork. "Umm. It's okay. It's cold. I guess."

Brittany smiles and you feel bad because she's trying and Cass is being a total shit head right now. "Yeah, just wait until summer. It's disgustingly hot."

Cass nods and goes back to her pasta.

"So what do you like to do outside of school? Nothing to do with running, I'm sure." You chuckle at Brittany, but Cass just looks at her expressionless.

"I don't know. Nothing. Watch Jersey Shore with Santana."

Brittany raises her eyebrows at you and you shrug sheepishly. "It's good entertainment, okay? Anyway, Cass likes to draw."

Brittany looks at Cass. "That's cool. What do you draw?"

Cass glares at you. "I don't know. Stuff."

"Stuff? I see." Brittany bites her lip, holding back a smile. "Well, are you any good?"

Cass shrugs. "I don't know. Not really."

"She's amazing." You interject. Cass shifts in her seat, eyes fixated on her empty plate.

"No, I'm not."

You turn to Brittany. "Yes she is."

"_Tía._ No, I'm really not."

Brittany is looking back and forth between the two of you, a small smile on her lips. You smile back at her. "She totally is. She's in the AP art class and I saw this one drawing she did of the skyline and it was awesome."

Brittany turns to Cass. "That's really cool, Cass."

"It's okay. Whatever." She finally looks up at you. "Can I be excused? I have, like homework, and stuff."

"Sure." Thank God.

Cass brings her plate to the kitchen and disappears down the hall, her door closing loudly. You want to put your head in your plate of food out of embarrassment and awkwardness. Instead you sigh and squeeze your eyes shut.

Brittany laughs beside you and you open your eyes and look at her incredulously. "It's okay, you know."

"That was awful." You groan.

"It was fine." She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand. "I mean, I do make her run a lot of laps…" Brittany's eyes twinkle playfully.

"I can't believe you're her teacher." Your eyes go wide. "Wait, is this even allowed? Are you allowed to date your student's, like… guardians?"

Brittany shrugs. "I don't know. But it's gym, San. Everyone gets an A in gym." She tilts her head to the side. "Well, actually maybe not Cass. She really doesn't like to run…"

You laugh. "Oh my God." You shake your head in amusement. "Do you want some wine?"

"Sure."

You take yours and Brittany's plates into the kitchen and put them in the sink, turning on the tap. You reach up and grab some wine glasses while you wait for the sink to fill up so you can wash the dishes. Sighing, you pour the wine into the glasses and take a sip from yours. You close your eyes and lean your head against the cabinet. This has been quite the night.

You jump when you feel arms encircle your waist. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" Brittany's voice in your ear causes you to shiver.

"No…"

"Mmm." Brittany places a kiss below your ear. "Well, you look beautiful."

You lean back into her arms. "Thank you." You reach over and turn off the tap before turning around in Brittany's arms. She smiles down at you and you take a deep breath, trying to relax.

"Sorry about her." You mutter sheepishly.

"It's okay. She'll come around."

You look at Brittany disbelievingly, but decide to let it go for now. "Do you want to stay and watch a movie or something?"

She smiles at you and you feel an unfamiliar tug in your stomach. God, how is she so beautiful? "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Okay." Why is your voice so squeaky?

"Okay." She leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. Then she's grabbing her glass of wine and hopping onto the counter with a grace you've never seen before. You immediately miss her arms around your waist. Sighing, you start scrubbing the plates in the sink, scowling when a spot refuses to come clean. Brittany giggles behind you.

"What's so funny?"

"You're cute when you make that grumpy face."

"I'm not making a grumpy face. And if I was, it's not… cute." Your confidence in your badassness is somewhat destroyed when Brittany continues to laugh.

"Yeah, okay San. Whatever you say."

You roll your eyes and dip your hands into the water, cupping them around the soapy liquid. Holding back a laugh, you turn around and fling the water at Brittany. It lightly splashes her face, drops roll down her nose and a few suds cling to the ends of her hair. Her mouth opens in shock and she stares at you and you can't help the laugh that bursts from deep within your stomach.

"You did not just do that."

"Do what exactly babe?" You can't stop laughing at the look on Brittany's face. Priceless.

"Santana!"

You turn back and continue to scrub the dishes, acting nonchalant. "Yes, Britt-Britt?"

You hear her hop off the counter, but you don't have time to turn around before one long pale arm is reaching across you to flip on the tap and another is grabbing the sink's hose. "No no no no no!" You try to move away, but Brittany pins you to the sink and darkly laughs in your ear.

"What's wrong, San?" Her voice is sickly sweet and you know this won't end well.

"I was just kidding, Britt, please, please, please put that down." You make a grab for the hose, but damn, when did you get so short?

Brittany laughs. "Come on, jump for it."

"Screw you." You snap, even as you get up on your tippy toes to take away the hose before she soaks you.

"Aw, you can dish it out, but you can't take it? Well, that sucks for you." You glance at Brittany's evil smile and make one last desperate lunge for the hose. Suddenly, water is spraying everywhere and it's dripping in your eyes. Your surprised screech at the cold water is mixed in with Brittany's fluttering laughter. You grab her arm and the hose twists so it's spraying Brittany now and her giggles turn to sputtering as you wrestle for control.

"Let go!" You laugh out.

"_You_ let go."

The water is spraying everywhere and you're jeans and top are soaked all the way through and you can feel the moisture making your hair start to curl. "Okay, okay! Truce!" You let go and spin around to shut off the tap. Brittany is still laughing and you rip the hose from her hands, returning it to its home next to the sink.

"Aw, San, you got me all wet!"

You might be willing to laugh at the innuendo, but seriously? This is her fault. "You asked for it." The water makes you shiver and you fake glare at her.

"You started it." Brittany pouts and her wet hair clings to her face and her blue eyes twinkle and you kind of want to die from cuteness overload.

A witty response is on your tongue, but she slips her arms around your neck and despite the layers of clothing between you and her, you can feel her chest against yours and suddenly you're shivering for reasons that have nothing to do with the temperature of the water dripping down your body. You step forward to kiss her, but almost slip on the water on the floor.

"Careful." Brittany laughs and her arms hold you tighter.

"You got the floor all wet." You mumble, embarrassed about almost falling.

"I'll help you clean up." She nuzzles her nose against yours and your body shivers even as warmth spreads through it.

"Mmm." You press your lips against hers and Brittany sighs contentedly. Then she takes a few steps forward and presses you forcibly against the sink. Your eyes open in surprise when her mouth leaves yours and begins an assault on your neck. It reminds you of that first night, over a month ago, before you started dating and you brought her back here not even knowing her name. You still can't believe she hadn't been with a girl before. Where does this confidence come from? You moan softly when she finds that extra sensitive spot on your neck.

"Britt…"

"Hmmm." The sound vibrates against your neck, and you almost forget what you were going to say.

"Umm. We… oh god." How does she do that with her tongue? "We need to… umm. Cass… down the hall. Might come back." You try to take deep breaths, but she's breathing in your ear and… fuck.

"She's doing homework." Brittany takes your ear between her teeth and you have to hold back your moan.

"What about the floor? And you're all wet."

"Yeah, I am." She giggles against your skin and wow, now with the jokes.

"Stop, B. Just… let me get you out of those wet clothes."

"I thought you'd never ask."

You groan. "Not like that. Just.. borrow some sweats or something?" Her mouth returns to yours and you close your eyes, inhaling the sweetness that is Brittany. She places one last peck on your lips before leaning back to look at you. Her eyes are piercingly blue and clouded as she smiles at you.

"Okay." Her arms relinquish you and you try to catch your breath. You push away from the counter to go get her some dry clothes. She slaps your butt on your way out of the kitchen.

"What do you want to watch?" Brittany's voice drifts in from the living room as you're drying the last of the plates.

"I don't care, you can pick." You wipe your hands on a towel and make your way into the other room, taking a seat on the couch. Brittany is leaning in front of the stand next to the TV, looking at your limited supply of DVDs.

"You have lame movies."

You roll your eyes. "I apologize."

Brittany plucks one off the shelf and pops it in the player. Then she bounds over to the couch and crashes into you, immediately settling into your side. Cute.

You scowl when the main menu for the movie appears on the screen. "Ugh. I hate this movie."

Brittany gives you an incredulous look. Her face is free of makeup now and she's in your sweats and one of your extra baggy t-shirts. Her hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and your breath is taken away by how beautiful she still is.

"Why do you have it if you hate it?"

You shrug. "I think it was a gift or something." She grabs the remote out of your hand and presses play.

"Well I like it, so we're watching it."

You quirk an eyebrow at her. "Or we could do something else…" You murmur suggestively. You haven't heard any sounds from down the hall so you think Cass might have gone to bed early.

"Shh, this is the best part."

"It just started…?"

She waves her hand in front of your face. "Be quiet."

You sigh and pout in your seat. You never really did like these cheesy chick flicks. You try to watch, but halfway through it, you kind of want to throw up. So you go to plan B.

Faking a yawn, you cuddle up next to Brittany and nuzzle your face into her neck. Her arms tighten around you, but otherwise her attention is completely on the movie. Smiling slightly, you stick out your tongue and lightly touch it to Brittany's neck. You chance a look at her face, and her eyebrows have scrunched slightly, but otherwise she's still engrossed with the disgustingness that is happening on screen. Determined, you softly drag your tongue up to her ear, taking the lobe into your mouth. Brittany's still focused on the TV, but you can feel her breathing starting to get irregular. Sensing victory, you breathe into her ear, and start sucking on her pulse point.

Suddenly you're being violently pushed down on the couch and straddled. You look up into Brittany's piercing eyes, a smirk on your face. "Hey."

"Shut up." Brittany leans down and captures your lips in a kiss and the force behind it surprises you. You eagerly push back and moan when Brittany's tongue finds its way into your mouth. Your hands fly up to grab Brittany's thighs and pull her closer. Her hands creep under the t-shirt you changed into and your skin tingles where her fingers touch. Her breath is ragged in your mouth and you don't hear Cass come down the hall.

"Gross."

You jump and suddenly Brittany rolls off of you, her face blushing insanely. Heat creeps up your own cheeks and you chuckle softly. You hear Cass go into the kitchen and get a glass out of the cabinet and the sound of water running reaches your ears. You exchange an embarrassed smile with Brittany.

"I told you she might come back." You whisper.

She pushes your shoulder. "You started it." She whispers back. You feel like a teenager again and shake your head in amusement.

Cass walks back into the hallway and you look at her over the back of the couch. She's smirking at you and God, she looks so much like you that it freaks you out. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay, you do that." You can feel Brittany's eyes on you, but you refuse to look away from Cass' challenging stare.

"Maybe you should, too." Cass' smirk grows and your mouth opens in shock and embarrassment. Brittany coughs awkwardly next to you.

"Oh my God. Get out of here."

"You get out of here. This is a shared space. You have a bedroom right there."

"This is my apartment!"

"Look, you can't stop me, I can't stop you. Just get a room, God." Cass rolls her eyes, wiggles her fingers in a wave, and glides down the hall. "Goodnight!" She calls over her shoulder before closing the door.

Brittany's smiling slightly when you look back at her and you put your head in your hands out of embarrassment. You seriously want to strangle that girl right now. Can you ground her? Maybe you will. What the fuck. You're not old enough to have to ground someone. Fuck.

"Well, I don't think the night could get more awkward."

Brittany shrugs, but smiles. "Probably not."

"She has no filter, I swear to God."

Laughing, Brittany grabs your hands and pulls them away from your face. "She's a teenager, it's fine."

"She could use this to like, blackmail you into giving her an A or something."

"It's gym, San." She brings your hand up to her mouth and gently kisses your knuckles. You sigh and lean your head on her shoulder and feel her lips on your head. "I should probably go anyway. I do have to work tomorrow and we have a dress rehearsal for the show."

"Oh yeah. Rachel gave me tickets. They're for Saturday."

"Awesome."

You turn your head to look at her. "Now I can finally see you dance."

Brittan smiles at you, her eyes twinkling. "Well, I hope I don't mess up, then."

"Rachel says you're the best dancer."

She rolls her eyes. "Rachel is always overdramatic."

You giggle. She's right, Rachel does tend to over exaggerate. "I bet she isn't this time."

"Maybe." Brittany bites her lip, holding back a smile. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Taking Cass to dinner for her birthday. And working."

"It's her birthday? Maybe I'll make her run laps. How old is she turning, seventeen? Seventeen laps, one for each year."

You laugh and lean in to kiss her. "I don't think that'll help your chances with her."

"You don't think so?" She nudges your noses together. You shake your head. "Ah. Oh well, guess I won't do that then."

"Okay."

She places a chaste kiss on your lips. "I really should go."

"Okay."

Another kiss. "I'll see you soon, though."

"Okay." You stand up and grab her coat from the closet. She puts it on and you open the front door for her.

"Despite the awkwardness… I had a really good time, tonight." She smiles at you and your heart swells in your chest. Damn that smile, it's going to be the death of you.

"Yeah, I guess it wasn't the worst dinner I've had." You say it jokingly, but Brittany gives you this look that makes you think she hears some truth behind your words. She loops her arms around your waist, pulling you in for a hug. You inhale and try to remember the feeling of happiness that surges through you in that moment. "I'll miss you." You whisper, and you're surprised the words left your mouth.

Brittany just squeezes you tighter. "I'll miss you, too."

"Goodnight Britt."

She pulls back and places a lingering kiss on your lips. "Goodnight Santana."

"This place is really nice."

You look at Cass over your menu. "Yeah, it's not too shabby."

"You didn't have to take me here. All of this stuff is really expensive."

You shrug. "It's your birthday."

She sighs and puts her menu down. She looks really pretty tonight. Her hair is curled and she's wearing a cute red dress. You still can't get over how much she looks like the teenage you. "Birthdays really aren't that special. I'm going to have a bunch more."

You meet her eyes. "You better hope so."

She sighs and looks back at her menu. "I don't know what to get. What are you getting?"

"Ummm… some kind of pasta maybe."

"This stuff is all so gourmet. Don't they have pizza or something?"

You roll your eyes. "What's your deal? Can't we have a nice dinner together for your birthday?"

"I don't know." Her voice comes out all croaky and she takes a sip of water.

"Why can't we? What'd you do for your last birthday?"

She avoids your eyes. "Nothing, really."

"What do you mean?"

"I just… didn't do anything. Actually I did homework. Yeah, homework. Which is an accomplishment, because I didn't really do my homework that much last year." Cass rambles on and looks anywhere but at you.

You narrow your eyes in concern. "That's all you did?"

"Yeah. That's what I've always done on my birthdays. Since I was like, twelve and Chuck E Cheese wasn't cool anymore." You just stare at her and she finally meets your eyes. They're darker than normal. "I just… ever since my mom died, birthdays haven really been a thing to celebrate at our house, you know?"

"Your dad didn't… get dinner with you, or give you presents and cake or… anything?" She shakes her head and her eyes are misty. You can tell she's holding back tears and the sight breaks your heart. Her dad is a douche bag. Who does that to a kid? "Well, I'm not… I'm not like him, Cass."

She shrugs and runs a finger under her eyes. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's fine." The waiter appears, and once again, the timing is fucking awesome.

"Are you ladies ready to order?"

You glance at Cass who is pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'll have the chicken parmesan."

"Same." She hands her menu to the waiter and he leaves to put in the order.

Cass fiddles with the silverware in front of her and you reach over to grab her hand. "Cass." She sighs in frustration and looks up at you. "I'm sorry about your dad." You try to put as much sincerity into your voice as possible. "I'm sorry. It's shitty. I know what it's like when your family isn't what you expect them to be."

Cass bites her lip and you squeeze her hand before continuing. "I also know what it's like when someone you didn't expect to care, loves you even when they don't have to."

"Who did that for you?"

You smile and shrug. "Rachel."

"_Rachel?_" Her voice hardens to something near incredulity.

"Yeah."

"That's hard to see. I thought you were only friends with her because of Kurt." You shake your head. "Wow."

You smile softly at her. "I want to make things better for you."

Her face softens and suddenly tears are spilling out of her eyes. She lets go of your hand and wipes them away. "Sorry." She chokes out.

"It's okay." You shrug. You remember how mean you were to Rachel in high school before she found you sitting on the side of the road with your duffel bag. The first time you realized she cared about you, you cried for hours.

It takes her a minute, but Cass eventually calms down. "Thank you."

You smile at her. "We're family." She looks at you curiously and nods, a smile breaking across her face.

"Yeah, we are."

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"Well, I did. So open it." You're back at the apartment sitting at the kitchen table and it's almost time for you to go work, but you're making Cass open her present before you go. She eyes you and sighs before delicately peeling off the paper, like you shouldn't have even wrapped the damn thing.

You watch her face as the last of the paper falls away. Her mouth opens and her eyes widen. She picks up the canvas and sketch pad and places it on the table before she moves to the kit of pastels and drawing pencils. She closes her eyes and breathes in slowly. "This stuff is expensive." Her eyes open to find yours.

"It's worth it. You're better than a number two pencil and printer paper, Cass."

She stares at you for a long moment. "Thank you, Santana. This means… God. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I know." You shrug and stand up, squeezing her arm. "But I have to go to work now. So maybe you could put that to good use, you know?"

You turn to go, but she grabs your wrist. "Can I come to work with you?"

You raise your eyebrows. "You want to come to the bar?" She bites her lip and nods. "You can't. I mean, it's illegal. And you have school tomorrow."

"Please, don't leave me here." Her voice is so tiny and childlike and it cuts at your heart. You really shouldn't let her come. You could get in so much trouble. But god, her eyes are so wide and vulnerable and you've never seen her like this…

You sigh. "Okay." Her smile is huge and you wonder how she could go from looking like she's going to cry to smiling like that in the span of a few seconds. "Okay. But you have to follow all my rules and if you break one, I'm grounding you for like, two weeks."

"Okay." She stands up and grabs her jacket before following you out the door.

"First, you're not drinking anything with alcohol." You tell her as you walk down the street toward the bar. "If a cop comes in in his uniform, you tell me right away and then you have to leave, got that?" She nods. "If anybody tries to hit on you, don't talk to him, at all. Not even one word."

"Okay. Is that all?"

"Yeah. Unless I think of more." You arrive at the bar and grab her by the arm. "I'm serious, Cass. You're just going to sit there."

"_Okay_, Tía, God."

"Okay." You pull open the door and relish the warmth that rushes out at you. You nod at Finn as you enter and lead Cass to a stool at the very end of the bar. "Sit here." She rolls her eyes, but sits on the stool.

You go to the back and hang up your jacket, before making your way behind the bar. Puck is already there and he smiles that fake sleazy grin at you. "Hey mamacita."

"Fuck off." You laugh and push at his arm. You grab a glass and fill it with Coke, placing it in front of Cass. "Be good."

She scoffs. "I'm not five."

"You're not twenty-one either." You remind her.

"Whatever."

You tap the bar with your hands and give her a meaningful look before going to help the other customers. The night is pretty slow and soon there's only one guy sitting at the bar. You place another drink in front of him and make your way back to where Cass is. She's been sitting there just watching people like you told her to and not talking to anyone, so you've kind of loosened up a little. You grab the stool that sits behind the bar and place it so you're sitting in front of her.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing. Just like you told me." She rolls her eyes at you, but smiles.

You feel a hand clamp down on your shoulder and the gruff voice that only comes from Puck floats through the air. "Well, hey there gorgeous." You turn to seem is giving Cass that gross smile.

"Back off Puckerman." You snap at him and his hand leaves your shoulder.

"Chill Lopez, I didn't know she was your new conquest." You and Cass both make disgusted faces.

"Gross." She says, her nose crinkling.

"Oh so, you're not interested in my girl here?" You seriously want to make it impossible for Puck to have children. Really, you'd be doing the world a favor.

"Umm. Fuck no." Cass snorts.

"Cass. Language, seriously." She rolls her eyes at you. "Puck, if you hit on my niece, I will fuck you up."

His eyes widen and he looks back and forth between the two of you. "Oh my God. Dude, San, your niece is fine."

You don't deny it. You'll take it as a compliment, she does look like you. But still. "She's also seventeen."

"Alright, alright, I'll back off. You want something to drink?" Puck asks her. "I'm Puck, by the way."

"Cass. But umm. I don't think Santana will be too happy if I accept your offer, so I'm going to go with no."

"Damn straight. Puck you can't give her alcohol. She's underage."

You glare at him and he smirks at you. "That's never stopped me before." He wiggles his eyebrows and you know he's talking about the first night you showed up in his bar all those years ago.

"Right." You huff.

"Anyway," Puck smiles a warmer smile at Cass. "Welcome to the family, let me know if you need anything." He pats you on the shoulder and moves down the bar to where a couple of older guys just sat down.

You shake your head. "Don't mind him."

"He's umm…" Cass struggles to find words to describe Puck.

"Yeah, I know."

She slides her glass back and forth between her hands. After a moment she looks at you. "He's our family, too?" Her eyes are doing that wide vulnerable thing again.

You smile softly at her. "Yeah, he is." She nods and you fill up her glass.

Later that night, as you get back to the apartment, shivering from the cold, Cass tiredly yawning, she turns to you and asks sleepily, "So Rachel and that guy Kurt… are they our family too?"

You like that she clumps the two of you together as family. It makes your heart do weird things in your chest. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay." She yawns again and you walk down the hall together. She stops outside her door and looks at you. "Thanks for everything."

You nod and smile and suddenly her arms are squeezing you around the middle. You're shocked because this is the first time Cass has shown any like, affection towards. You squeeze her back after you get over the weirdness. Then she lets go of you and smiles one more time before going into her room and shutting the door.

As you're crawling into bed, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you have a lot more family than you realized.


	9. Chapter 9

"How much longer?"

You sigh and look to where Cass is sitting to the left of you. Sounds of conversation and laughter fill up the room around you and you fidget in your seat impatiently. "I don't know, it was supposed to have started five minutes ago." You turn to Kurt, who is sitting on your other side. "Kurt how much longer, dammit?"

"Relax, Santana. I assume you have nowhere else to be, so calm down." He waves his hand in the air and rolls his eyes.

"I bet this is Berry's fault," you grumble, mostly to yourself.

"Oh, I wholeheartedly agree with you. Rachel certainly enjoys making an impression."

You snort. What an understatement. "Does he know how much longer?" Cass whines.

"No. Knowing Berry it will probably be at least another fifteen minutes." But even as the words leave your mouth, the overhead lights are flashing and dimming and the crowd quiets around you.

"Finally," Cass huffs under her breath.

The curtain opens and you lean forward in anticipation. You've never been to a Broadway show before, and sure this is off-Broadway, but it still feels pretty legit. You're glad you're spending your Saturday night here instead of at work. Even if you've been waiting _forever_.

Soft singing reaches your ears, but nobody is on stage. You try to determine if the singing voice is Rachel's but you can't be sure… Then, enter stage left, a small figure, walking slowly toward a spot center stage. The song builds up until the figure reaches the middle of the stage and faces the audience, where it reaches a crescendo.

You stare in awe at Rachel. She looks so right being on stage, like she was made to perform in front of large audiences. You think that she was. Her voice is so powerful and you can feel yourself getting swept away in the song. When it finally comes to an end, the audience enthusiastically applauds, and Rachel, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, takes it all in. You smile proudly and clap along with them. Then other actors come running on stage, preparing to perform the next scene and the moment is over.

It's three songs into the thing, when you finally notice her. Rachel and the male lead sing to each other center stage, and a group dances behind them. They are the picture of beauty and grace, but one figure seems to be more graceful and far more beautiful than the rest (although you may be biased (except you're pretty sure you're not)).

Golden hairs whips around Brittany's face as she dances, and her eyes are closed as she twirls and dips. She looks beautiful, so goddamn gorgeous, that your breath catches in your throat. You hear Cass' intake of breath beside you and turn to glance at her. She is staring in wonderment at the stage, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. As your gaze returns to the dancing blonde, you wonder if you look the same.

Watching Brittany dance on stage is different than watching her dance at the bar. At Puck's she was all sex appeal and laughter and pure joy. At Puck's, her dancing was almost a way for her to gain attention (which obviously worked, as you're here now). But here, on stage, Brittany is… at ease. She's passionate and purposeful and so, so beautiful. Her calculated steps across the stage are fluid and graceful, as if she was simply doing an everyday activity and turning it into something extraordinary. It's amazing and you decide that Rachel wasn't exaggerating at all when she talked about Brittany's dancing being incredible.

When intermission sounds, you blink as your eyes try to refocus when the lights flick on. Cass looks over at you, dumbfounded.

"Rachel is an awesome singer." You nod in agreement, but truthfully, you hadn't been paying much attention to Rachel. "And Brittany… she's a fucking beast muffin at dancing!"

"Cass, lang – wait, what's a 'beast muffin'?"

"You know, like a beast."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "No… that makes her sound like, scary and hairy."

Cass rolls her eyes. "It just means she's awesome."

"Oh." Kids these days. "Yeah, she is." You get up to go to the restroom and almost miss the show starting again because the line is so fucking long.

You take your seat just as the curtain is opening again, and you're once again blown away by the performance. By the time the closing curtain is drawn, you can't believe you've never had Britt dance for you before. She's fucking amazing. As the cast comes out one by one you clap loudly along with the crowd. You watch as Brittany spins around the stage when it's her turn, ending with a bow and the cutest smile you've ever seen. You laugh quietly. Your girl is awesome. When Rachel appears with the male lead, the applause is thunderous. Kurt wolf whistles beside you. You can't remember a time when you've been more proud of her in your life. Your heart swells as think of how far she's come. You're so happy that Rachel is living her dream.

After the show, you wait out in the lobby with Cass and Kurt. The cast and crew are busy being complimented by the seas of people, but you'll just wait your turn. Plus, you can't see Brittany anywhere. The flowers in your hand become heavy as you become impatient.

"Kurt, how long does it usually take for all this commotion to be over?"

He shrugs. "It's different every show." You huff in disapproval.

"You seriously need to calm down." Cass rolls her eyes at you.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the crowd dims and Rachel makes her way over to where you're standing. "Rachel!" Kurt exclaims. "You were fabulous!"

"Oh, well thank you, Kurt. I was a little pitchy during the second act though. Do you think anyone noticed, because I am absolutely positive it will affect the reviews I will undoubtedly receive."

"No, darling, you couldn't even tell."

"I have perfect pitch, you know."

"Yeah, Berry, we know." You roll your eyes.

"Oh, hello, Santana. Hi Cass. Did you enjoy the show?" Rachel's eyes sparkle.

"Yeah, you were awesome, Rachel."

"Aw, thanks! Hey, San, are those for me? You shouldn't have!" She makes a grab for the flowers.

You growl. "Back off, Berry. No, they are for my talented girlfriend. Where is she by the way? This is taking fucking forever." You scan the room again, but there's no sign of your blonde anywhere.

"She's cranky," Cass whispers to Rachel, but you ignore them, because you've suddenly spotted who you're looking for and take off, walking swiftly.

"Britt!" Brittany turns and smiles when she sees you.

"Hi San!"

You reach her and give her a huge hug, picking her up and spinning her around. Okay, it's a little over board, but you're so happy to see her and just... yeah. Brittany laughs as you set her back on the ground. "B, you were _amazing_."

She smiles sheepishly. "I was okay."

"No, why didn't you tell me you were that good! I would've made you dance for me sooner!" Brittany shrugs and her ears turn red. You hold the flowers out to her. "These are for you."

Her eyes go wide and she glances from you to the flowers. "For me?" You nod. "But San, I don't even have any lines."

"I know, but you were better than everyone." You cup her cheeks and pull her into a short kiss. She giggles as you pull away.

"Well, thanks. These are really beautiful." You nod eagerly and she laughs. "Jesus, babe, who spiked your drink, you have way too much energy right now."

You pout. Are you not allowed to be excited because your girlfriend is super awesome and beautiful?

"She just thinks you're awesome." Cass' voice comes from behind you and you turn to see that her and Kurt have made their way over. Rachel has disappeared somewhere. "And she is like, super impatient."

Brittany laughs. "Hi, Cass, glad you could make it."

"Me too." She smiles tentatively at Brittany. "You're a beast muffin at dancing."

"Aw, thanks! But I'm not that great."

Cass shrugs and you lean into Brittany. "Wait, you know what a _beast muffin_ is?"

Brittany gives you a strange look. "Yeah, don't you?"

You open your mouth, but don't really know what to say. Thankfully, Kurt butts in. "That was a beautiful performance, Brittany."

"Thanks, Kurt." She smiles at him and buries her nose in your flowers. You smile and grab her hand. You feel like a sap, but you're just really happy, okay?

"When is the next show?"

Brittany tilts her head to the side, contemplating it. "Umm. Actually we have a two week break since it's Thanksgiving this week. So sometime the week after that. Thursday maybe."

Kurt raises his eyebrows. "Isn't it weird that they'd give you the whole weekend off?"

Brittany shrugs. "I think so, but the director is going to Hawaii with his wife."

Kurt nods. "So what are your holiday plans?" He asks conversationally.

"I don't know yet." Brittany shrugs. "I was thinking about going back to Colorado to see my parents, but I'm doing that for Christmas, so I might not."

"You could come to Kurt and Blaine's with us."

You whip your head around to stare at Cass. Sure, you might have offered the same thing, but you never in a million years expected Cass to offer. She doesn't like "Ms. Pierce" and her ability to make her run laps.

"Oh, that's nice of you to ask, but I couldn't intrude." Brittany shrugs.

"Oh, nonsense, the more the merrier!" A smile lights up Kurt's boyish face. "Even Rachel will be joining us."

"Hmmm." Brittany turns to look at you and you squeeze her hand. "Okay… I guess I could do that. Thank you."

Kurt smiles. "It's our pleasure." He glances around. "I need to go see where Rachel got off to." You watch as he saunters away before turning back to Brittany.

"So do you have plans after this?"

Brittany quirks an eyebrow at you. "Well some of the cast are going out for drinks, but I don't really have plans, no."

"Oh."

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Oh. Not really. You should go out with the others."

Brittany pouts. "Aw, I thought you were going to offer to spend time with me."

Heat creeps up your neck. "Well I was… but I don't want you to miss out on your plans with your friends."

"I told you I don't really have plans."

"Yeah, but…"

"Let's go to Puck's." Brittany smiles seductively at you. "We can dance."

"Oh my God. You guys, I'm right here." Cass fake gags when you look at her. "Is it okay if I just catch a cab home? Since you're going to get down and dirty somewhere else."

"Cass!"

"What? I just tell it like it is Tía, no need to get your thong in a twist."

Oh my God. Something is wrong with that girl. Does she not have a _filter_? "Please get out of here. Here." You open your wallet and giver a handful of bills. "Be safe."

"Whatever." She smirks. "Later, Ms. Pierce."

"Bye Cass!" Brittany waves. How is she completely unaffected and you're left feeling like an embarrassed fool?

"Oh my God, I swear we're not related," you say as you watch Cass walk away.

Brittany laughs and engulfs you in a hug from behind. "You definitely are." She lets go and grabs your hand. "Come on, I'm going to go change and put these in the dressing room." She waves the flowers in front of your face and leads you through a door.

Backstage is bustling with activity. Cast and crew scurry from here to there, yelling and laughing and chatting animatedly among one another. Several people wave to Brittany, but she merely waves back and leads you through another door. Inside, several mirrors line the walls, and outfits litter the floor and hang from costume racks. A few other dancers mill about, changing and giggling. Brittany leads you to the farthest mirror from the door and rummages under the counter until she pulls back, vase in hand.

"Wow, you're prepared. So modest," you joke.

"My mom sent me flowers last week." Brittany fills up the vase and arranges your flowers in it gently. "There, perfect!" She smiles and kisses you on the cheek.

"B!" Brittany looks up at a tall Asian guy who is walking over. "Are you coming out for drinks?"

Shaking her head, Brittany smiles down at you. "No, I'm going out with my lady. Next time though."

The Asian dude smiles at you. "Ah. I thought you were making her up Britt. But you're right, she's just as beautiful as you said." Your cheeks instantly flare up and you look at Brittany questioningly, but she just smiles knowingly, her eyes glowing.

"Babe, this is Mike. Mike this is Santana."

You reach out to shake Mike's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Mike laughs gently. "It's nice to finally meet _you_ actually. Brittany never stops talking about you."

"Not all bad things, I hope." You smile and lean into Brittany who puts her arm around your shoulders.

"Nah, she might have mentioned one or two halfway decent things." Mike winks and Brittany slaps him playfully. "Well, I have to go, but it was really nice meeting you. I'll see you later, Britt." Mike waves and makes his way out the door.

"He's the choreographer," Brittany says in your ear. "And you know, my best friend."

"He's nice."

"Yeah, he is." Brittany lets go of you and grabs some clothes off the floor. You look at the pictures taped to the mirror while she changes. There's one of her and a very fat cat, who you assume is Lord Tubbington. There's one of her and Mike, smiling brightly at the camera. And one of her and an older blonde woman. The woman is smiling and Brittany is staring at her, her eyes twinkling and nose crinkling in laughter. Finally, there's one of you sopping wet and fake glaring at the camera, arms crossed. Brittany took the picture after your water fight the other night.

"I like that one," Brittany says from behind you. "You're cute."

"I'm not cute." You pout, knowing full well how cute you are. Which is pretty damn cute.

"Right." She touches your lower lip with her finger before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. "Let's go." You nod and take another glance at your picture on her mirror with a smile.

* * *

><p>"Okay, you have to be quiet, okay? Okay, Britt? Be quiet." You fumble with the lock on the door as you try to fit the key in. Maybe you had too much to drink. The door swings open to reveal a pitch black apartment.<p>

"San? San where are? I can't see you San!"

"I'm right here, B." You grab her wrist and clamp your other hand over her mouth. "But shh, Cass is sleeping." Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you find piercing blue staring at you. You remove your hand from Brittany's mouth.

"Sorry," she whispers.

"It's okay." You close the door behind you and drag Brittany to your bedroom. Ruffling through the drawers, you find a shirt and some boy shorts. "Here babe, put these on."

"Mmmpf. San I'm tired." Brittany yawns. "And like, drunk." She giggles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are." You change into your own pajamas and go to the kitchen and grab water and the bottle of aspirin for you and Britt. The thought of a hangover tomorrow has your head almost pounding already. Damn Puckerman and his determination to get you drunk so you'll make out in front of him. Whatever.

Brittany is already cuddled under the covers when you return to your room and you crawl in beside her. She instantly nuzzles into your side. You throw your arms around her and yawn. "Night Britt."

"Night San."

Your breath is starting to even out and your thoughts are beginning to jumble together when you feel a poke in your side. "Hmmm."

"San, wake up."

"Mmm. Whyyyy?"

"I'm not tired."

You try to open your eyes, but they feel so heavy. "You just said you were, like five minutes ago."

"Yeah, but I'm not anymore." Brittany pokes your side again. "Come on, San, please." You shake your head, determined to fall asleep. "Santana, pleaseee."

"Mmmpf."

You snuggle back into Brittany and she sighs and puts her arms around you. After a moment, you feel a hand creep under your shirt. Fingers circle your belly button and tingles follow in their wake. It's relaxing and you sigh contentedly. Then the fingers slowly crawly upward until they are dangerously close to your boobs. Your eyes snap open.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmmm? Nothing, trying to sleep. What are you doing?"

You huff and close your eyes again. After a moment the fingers creep back down to your stomach. Or… past your stomach and under the elastic of your shorts, teasing you. Suddenly heat shoots through your body and is that your _heart _throbbing like that or… _oh._ Your breath catches in your throat and oh god, you see what she's doing now. You'd think Brittany is a bitch, but you're super turned on right now.

Except… you can't _give in._ That's what she wants you to do. But you're obviously not getting any sleep for awhile, you're wide awake now. Dammit. You're contemplating whether you should flip over and _make_ Brittany tired or just ignore it, when the hand suddenly retreats from your underwear and arms leave your body. A cold washes over you as Brittany yawns and mutters, "Night San," before turning over.

Your jaw falls open. Seriously? Fuck. Is she really going to sleep now? But you're so worked up! Damn her. You clench your legs together under the sheets. Umm. Kay yeah, there's no way you're getting to sleep now. Fuck your pride.

You turn over and suddenly Brittany is pinned to the bed, wide eyes glinting back at you. "San, what are you doing, I thought you were sleeping?" Brittany bites her lip, but even the darkness you can see the smirk it's hiding.

"Not tired." You position your knee so it's resting between her legs.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's pretty late." Blue eyes sparkle playfully and you resist the urge to roll your own.

You move your knee up into Brittany's core and hear the intake of breath from below you. "Yep. I'm sure."

"But San, I'm drunk. Are you trying to take advantage me?" A giggle escapes her lips and you smirk down at her.

"Definitely." You lean down and bury your face in her neck, sucking on the skin there.

"Oh." You can feel Brittany's chest rising up to meet yours as her breathing increases. Her hands make their way back under your shirt and onto your stomach, rubbing softly. Your lips make a trail up her jawline and she turns her head, taking your bottom lip between hers.

Suddenly, you're rolling and your back is flat against the mattress, hands held above your head. Your mouth opens in shock and Brittany laughs. "Please, Santana, you didn't think you were in control here, did you."

"I… Oh. What?" You're always on top, what is this? Your arms struggle to free themselves and Brittany smiles down at you, unfazed. She leans in close to your ear and whispers, "I'm not drunk anymore by the way."

"Gah." You thrash on the bed, desperately fighting for control, but Brittany is smirking down at you and she's so damn sexy and you're losing energy fast. She grabs both your wrists in one hand and the other slithers down your body and cups your center. "Oh. Shit."

"Eager much?" Brittany laughs, and _fuck_, how did you get in this position?

"Britt," you gasp. "Let go!"

"No way. This way is much more fun." Her hair falls around you and she laughs as your noses bump together. Your hips involuntarily buck up, searching for friction. "Now, San," her voice drops seductively and you can't tear your gaze away from those damn eyes. "I'm going to let go, and if you even _think_ about trying to flip us, there will be _serious_ consequences. Do you understand?"

Oh my God. You're so wet. How did this even happen? "Kay," you breathe out.

"Good." Brittany nips your ear before letting go of your hands. They itch to move, but you hold them still. She sits up and takes her shirt off. Her pale skin glows in the darkness as your eyes trace over everything she has to offer. Slowly, her arms come around to unhook her bra and she tosses it somewhere in the room. God, she's so beautiful.

She leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your lips and your hand comes up to cup her face. Then she's pulling you into a sitting position and seconds later, your shirt and bra are on the floor too. Brittany looks down at with soft eyes and you suddenly feel strangely self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful, Santana," she whispers and your eyes shift away from her steady gaze, unsure if you like this new direction Brittany is taking you in. Fingers curl into the elastic of your underwear and pull them down your legs. You lift your butt up so they slide off easier. You close your eyes for a moment and when you open them back up, Brittany's underwear is gone too. Her gaze locks on you and you barely resist the urge to regain control of the situation.

Leaning back down, Brittany brings your lips together. When her body touches yours, the feeling that spreads through you is a mixture of contentment and arousal and you desperately want to just… _do something_. But Brittany is on top of you kissing you slowly and softly and even as you grow restless, you can't help but melt into her.

Her lips leave yours and move down your jaw to your neck. Hands wander to your chest and you arch into the soft caresses under Brittany's hands. She hums out something unintelligible as her lips move farther down your body. Your chest is heaving and your whole body is on fire. Brittany's lips are at your stomach now and your body shudders involuntarily in anticipation.

Then the lips slow, and almost tentatively, Brittany's tongue pokes at your clit. You gasp for breath as your hips move and your hands fist the sheets beside you. You whimper softly as the tongue explores and finally delves inside you, working up a rhythm. You're moving faster and faster… and suddenly the tongue stops and you look down at Brittany who is looking up at you with big eyes. Then the tongue dives back in, but Brittany's eyes never leave yours. Fingers are added to the mix and heat is building low in your stomach and you're so fucking close, and Brittany is still staring at you. You can't look away and you feel an uneasiness creep inside you. But then fingers hit the right spot and your arching off the bed, and your mouth falls open. For that moment, you're caught in Brittany's gaze and she is giving you this _look_ that you can't quite place and then you're back hits the bed and the moment is gone. You collapse in a heap and Brittany crawls back on top of you and nuzzles into your neck. You're shaking and you're not sure of it's from the aftershocks of your orgasm or because even though your eyes are closed, you see Brittany's blue ones piercing through the darkness.

You wrap your arm around Brittany and hold her close as she places soft kisses over your face. Your breathing is returning to normal and over the ragged sound, you hear her softly whisper, "I've never done that before."

You open your eyes and turn to look at her. Blonde hair sticks to her forehead and you gently wipe it away. Teeth curl over her bottom lip and blue eyes are clouded and soft with… worry? You stroke your thumb across her cheek and smooth out the crinkle in her forehead. She is so beautiful and so wonderful and an awesome giver of powerful orgasms. How did you get so lucky? A strange feeling bubbles up inside you and makes your heart pick up again.

"You're amazing, Britt." Your voice comes out hoarse and you wonder where your confidence from earlier disappeared to. Your hand gently glides over her collarbone and down her shoulder, reveling in the softness of the skin underneath.

She leans her forehead against yours and sighs, pulling you impossibly close. You fold into her body, nose nuzzling into her neck and her hands rest on your back. Stomachs bump gently together and your thigh feels wetness when your legs entangle with hers. You smile and kiss her neck, feeling your energy and confidence returning.

Smirking, you flip Brittany so you're back on top. She smiles up at you and raises her eyebrows playfully. Damn, she's so sexy. Grinning, you lean down and kiss her. For the rest of the night you show _her_ who's in control around here.

* * *

><p>A clanging sound wakes you up the next morning. You groggily open your eyes and look at the clock. Damn. You slept really late. You roll over and find the spot next to you empty. The sound of soft music and laughter drifts under the crack in the door and you roll out of bed and put your clothes back on. You tentatively open the door and the smell of breakfast wafting down the hall makes your stomach grumble.<p>

When you finally shuffle into the kitchen, your eyebrows skyrocket. Brittany and Cass slide across the floor in their socks laughing. Cass is taking bacon out of the microwave and carefully placing it on a plate. Brittany flips pancakes on the stove, wearing your NYU hoodie and boy shorts. They're both singing to some song on the radio you've never heard before.

"Does Santana like pancakes?" Brittany asks Cass as she flips another one with the spatula.

"Yeah. Actually the ones that she makes are the _shit_, but don't tell her I said so." Brittany nods and grins at Cass who softly smiles back.

Umm. Did you wake up in an alternate universe or something?

Brittany glances up at the clock and smiles when she sees you standing in the doorway. "Hey, look who finally decided to get up."

Cass looks over at you and rolls her eyes. "Late night?"

You grumble under your breath and keep looking between the two of them confused. When did Cass start liking Brittany? And why does this feel so… domestic? It's kind of freaking you out.

"You hungry, babe? We made food." Brittany kisses you on the cheek as she passes by you on her way to the coffee machine.

You're still unable to say anything, so you just sit down at the table. Brittany places a mug of coffee in front of you with a weird look.

"She's not a morning person," Cass says from somewhere behind you. You scowl in response.

"It's noon," comes Brittany's reply.

Cass sits across from you at the table and places a plate of bacon in the center. "Yeah, but she just woke up." Then she smirks. "Nice sex hair," she whispers. You glare at her. No. Filter.

Brittany places a plate of pancakes in front of you, syrup and all, and sits beside you. "Well, I hope she likes the pancakes, because mine are the _shit_." She winks at Cass who gives her a high-five.

Strangest morning ever.

* * *

><p>Thanksgiving comes in heartbeat. All too soon, you're at Kurt and Blaine's telling Rachel to pass the potatoes (which you tentatively pile on your plate, seeing as they're vegan and you're just not that sure about them).<p>

Cass sits on your left, laughing at something Blaine said, and Brittany is engaged in a conversation with Rachel on you're right. As you sit there and take in the scene, you can't help but be amazed how much your life has changed in a year.

Last Thanksgiving, Rachel went back to Lima to see her two gay dads and Kurt and Blaine were on their honeymoon. You ate Chinese takeout and watched bad television before going to work, where you basically did nothing because barely anyone came in that day. Rachel invited you back with her, but you didn't feel like intruding on their family yet _another_ year. You're old enough to spend a holiday by yourself.

Now, you sit here and can't help but be amazed at the new additions in your life. Cass, with her attitude and sassy personality, is a walking replica of you ten years ago. You're shocked at how she was forced into your life with no warning and now you actually care about her and want her to grow up into an amazing young woman and make smart decisions for herself. You have hopes for her to have a good future and be happy.

And Brittany. Who knew that some random girl who flirted with you in a bar would become the most amazing girlfriend you'd ever had? You smile as you watch her laugh and talk animatedly with Rachel, her bubbly personality lighting up the room. She's so beautiful and you want her to always make you pancakes and act like a kid with Cass and eat Thanksgiving dinner with you. Your eyes widen in shock at the thought.

Oh. You've never had long term thoughts like that. You smile into your plate as a strange warmth surges through you. Brittany's hand finds your knee under the table and she smiles at you as Rachel pauses the conversation to say something to Kurt.

_Hi_, she mouths.

_Hi, _you mouth back.

She leans in and nudges your ear with her nose. "You look beautiful tonight," she whispers and kisses your cheek. You smile and she squeezes your knee as Rachel claims her attention once again.

You finish the evening with Kurt's famous pumpkin pie, and your stomach is bursting. You watch as Kurt taps his glass with his knife. "Okay, my wonderful guests! It's sharing time." Blaine smiles at him, but you groan.

"What's sharing time?" Cass asks with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"You go around and say what you're thankful for." Rachel smiles at her. "I'd like to start Kurt, if you don't mind."

"Not at all Rachel."

"Please keep it short, Berry," you huff out at her. Cass chuckles next to you.

"I'll have you know, Santana, that I have a lot to be grateful for and I find this a wonderful opportunity to let my appreciation be known."

"Well, then by all means, get on with it before we all need to rid ourselves in one way or another of that freakish tofurkey you forced us to eat." You smirk, even though to be honest, that thing wasn't that bad. Just weird as shit.

"San. Be nice." Brittany nudges your shoulder.

Rachel huffs. "Fine. Your attitude is most unwelcome Santana, although by now, I have to admit I am quite accustomed to it. Anyway, I am thankful that I have a successful career, with my foot in the door of Broadway. I see a bright future ahead for myself and cannot wait to explore the possibilities. I am also grateful for good friends and of course, two of the most amazing fathers who could not possibly offer me more support than they already do." Rachel breathes in and smiles around the table. "There Santana that wasn't too long, was it?" You shrug in response.

"My turn," Blaine says from the end of the table. "I'm thankful to have such a loving husband and a comfortable life to live. And of course, great friends." He smiles. "Oh, and football!"

Kurt laughs and stares at Blaine with adoring eyes. You kind of want to throw up that tofurkey now. "I am thankful for my supportive and caring husband and that my line in Japan is taking off marvelously." He glances around the table. "Who's next? Santana?"

You shift awkwardly in your seat. "Umm. I'm thankful that Rachel's gratefulness didn't bore us all to death."

Cass snorts beside you and nudges your elbow and you think you're off the hook, but Brittany is staring at you with these eyes and you know she won't let you leave it at that. Sighing you begrudgingly continue. "I'm thankful for you guys and letting me spend my Thanksgiving with you. And for my niece who brings unpredictability into my life, and my awesome girlfriend who fills it with the color." Heat creeps up your face and you avoid everyone's eyes.

"I'm thankful for a lot of things this year," says Brittany beside you. "I'm thankful for new friends and that I get to do something I love every day and get paid for it, whether it's dancing or hanging around with kids. I'm thankful that I found a new friend in Cass and safety and happiness in my girlfriend." She shrugs and her smile makes your insides tingle. "Oh. And I'm grateful that Santana is awesome in bed."

Kurt chokes on his water from the end of the table and your cheeks burn up. Cass laughs hysterically next to you and you cover your eyes with your hands, mortified.

"Well, that's very nice, Brittany." Rachel comments from across the table. "How about you Cass?"

"Umm," she chokes out in between laughs. "Let's see. I'm grateful that there's like, turkey at this Thanksgiving dinner. And that you guys invited us here. I guess… I'm also thankful that Santana has offered her home to me and that I've found a family in her." Everyone smiles adoringly at the two of you and god, could your cheeks get any hotter. "Oh. And I have no information about her ability in bed, so…sorry about that…" She trails off and everyone laughs good-naturedly.

Seriously though. Do they sell brain filters in the store?

After you help clean up, everyone says their goodbyes. You thank Kurt and Blaine for having you and promise Rachel coffee later next week. Brittany kisses you lovingly before catching a cab and Cass and you make your way to the subway.

"I'm so full," Cass groans out as you take a seat on the train. It's thankfully not very full.

"Me too."

"Tofurkey is weird."

"Yeah it is." Then you remember something. "Did you really not have turkey on Thanksgiving?"

She shrugs. "I tried to make it one year, but I suck at cooking and I made the smoke alarms go off. My dad was pissed."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I mean it wasn't too bad. Sometimes my dad would make lasagna or something. If not, I usually had one of those frozen fried chicken dinners. At least they had potatoes in them." She laughs and shakes her head. "Whatever. This year was awesome, so I'm happy."

You think about that as you walk back to the apartment after getting off the train. Cass admitting to being happy and just… enjoying herself. That's so different from when she first came to you, walls up and attitude flaring. You marvel at the drastic change. It's amazing how different she is now. You smile at her happiness and that strange feeling fills you up again. Before you can comment on it, Cass has unlocked the door and marched into the apartment to hang up her jacket.

She yawns as she closes the closet door. "I'm tired. What's that stuff that's in turkey that makes you sleepy?"

"L-tryptophan?"

"Uh. Yeah I think so." She yawns again. "Anyway. I think I'll go to bed. Night."

"Yeah, night." A nagging sensation itches at the back of your neck. "Hey, Cass?"

"Yeah?" She looks at you from her doorway.

"I… uh. I love you, you know?"

Her eyes widen and a smile breaks across her face, making her eyes look like warm chocolate.

"I… uh. Love you too." You smile and she shrugs. "Goodnight, Tía."

Yes, this Thanksgiving is much better than last year.


	10. Chapter 10

Flurries of snow whip around outside and you stare out the window while taking a sip of coffee. You don't usually go for this expensive latte crap (even if it's like heaven in your mouth) because you usually just make coffee in the pot at home. But here you are, humming in contentment as warmth floods through you.

It's a Saturday halfway through December, and this morning you woke up and found that you were out of coffee. And obviously you can't get out of bed, let alone function, if you don't get your damn caffeine fix. So you dragged Cass to that coffee place around the corner that is better than Starbucks, but not as expensive (even though it's still too expensive for your liking).

Pressing your nose to the window, you take in the snow whirring around and how it smells like Christmas in here. There's only a week and half left and you watch as more people than usual scurry around in desperate need of getting their shopping done. You've had that shit in the bag for a week now so you are thankfully stress free.

"Do you want kids?"

You're jolted from your Christmas thoughts by Cass' voice breaking the comfortable silence you've been in the past few minutes. "What?"

"Do you want to… you know, have kids?" She's looking over your shoulder and you follow her line of sight to see a mother fussing with a little boy, no older than three.

"Um. Why do you ask?"

Her eyes focus back on you and she shrugs before looking down at the table. "I don't know. Just wondering."

"You're not pregnant are you?" Shit, if Cass is pregnant you are going to _kill_ that boy, George. Or was it Gary? Whatever. You'll kill him.

Cass shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I haven't even seen that kid since that one time, so stop doing that plotting thing in your head." She rolls her eyes and looks back over your shoulder. She has this pained look on her face and you look back at the kid but he's laughing at his mom. There's drool dripping out of his mouth. Gross.

Truthfully, you haven't really thought about if you ever want kids or not. You don't have much interaction with them because you mostly stay home and go to work, and it's not like people bring their little monsters into the bar.

"I don't know, I guess I haven't thought much about it. That step typically comes after marriage and I still haven't gotten to that stage in my life yet."

"Do you think you'll marry Brittany?" Cass leans her head on her elbow and looks at you across the table. What is with these questions?

"It's kind of soon for that, don't you think?" Cass shrugs. "It's only been a few months."

She tilts her head to the side and gives you that infamous calculating look. "Well, do you love her?"

"Uh…" Do you love Brittany? You love how her smile makes you smile. And you love how beautiful she is when she's dancing (well all the time, really). And how nice she is to everyone. And you love when you wake up next to her when she stays over, and how she always makes you breakfast even if you're at your apartment. Yeah, you love a lot of things about Brittany. But do you love _her_?

"I don't know, Cass. Maybe."

"Hmmm." Her lips twist in thought, as she looks back over your shoulder. You both sit in silence, thinking. You finish your coffee and watch Cass stare into space.

"I think you'd be a good mom," she says after a few minutes. Her eyes catch yours in a stare and it unsettles you, like there's something she isn't saying. Suddenly you think of all the times your hand has lingered on her shoulder when you're introducing her to someone, and the way you subconsciously smooth her hair back when she gets frustrated with her homework. A weird feeling bubbles up inside you and your eyes shift away from hers.

"You're making me feel old," you joke, anything to get rid of this weird feeling. "Plus, I think I have enough on my plate trying to keep you out of trouble as it is."

She smirks at you and kicks you under the table and the strange feeling recedes a little bit. "Whatever."

Cass finishes her drink and you get up to leave. As you're stepping outside into the snow, you can't help but look back at the mom and her little boy. She's lovingly wiping off his face, despite him swatting at her hand, and suddenly the strange feeling returns, more overwhelming than before.

* * *

><p>"I just don't get why the supply would be low if the demand is high. If more people want it, shouldn't they make more of the product?"<p>

"Well, I think that is sometimes true, depending on the product. Like, if the demand is up, the product might be rarer so that the companies could charge more for it."

"Yeah, but why?"

"I don't know, Cass. I have to go help that guy, try reading the textbook."

You're at work later and you're stressed. The bar is really packed tonight and customers keep flagging you down. And Cass keeps asking you questions about her economics homework, but you can barely remember anything from that econ course you took in college.

Ever since her birthday, Cass comes to work with you a lot. You feel kind of guilty because she _seriously_ shouldn't be here, you could get in trouble with the law or some shit. And when you work she stays up really late. But she always insists she wants to come and never complains about being tired the next morning, so you feel even guiltier when you leave her home alone.

Plus, she really does just _sit_ there like you told her to the first night. Now she often brings her homework and sits in the very last seat in the corner, her notebooks and textbooks spread out on the bar. Sometimes she brings her art stuff, but she never lets you see what she's drawing. Which is fine, but you're kind of curious.

It's nights like tonight that make you nervous. It's really busy and people are getting completely trashed and you don't like having to keep an eye on Cass while also watching out for the occasional bar fight. It's stressful.

After you give the guy at the other end of the bar his drink, you wander back to Cass and refill her coke.

"Ugh. I give up. Why is this shit so hard?"

You smile slightly as she throws her pencil on the bar and leans on her elbow. You're startled when a familiar head of blonde comes up behind Cass. Your mouth opens in surprise, but Brittany puts a finger to her lips and you force the shocked noise that was about to escape back down your throat.

"I just don't really care about supply and demand, you know? Why can't this stuff be easy? Like… I don't know, like gym. I hate gym, but at least it's easy."

You almost die of laughter when Brittany smirks and leans down toward Cass' ear. "I knew you hated my class."

"Holy shit!" Cass jumps a mile and covers her heart with her hand before smacking Brittany's arm. "Jesus, Britt you scared me."

"Sorry it was too good to resist." She smiles and leans over to see what Cass is working on. "Econ? Gross."

"Can you help me?"

"No, I suck at school. You know that saying? Those who can't do, teach. And those who can't teach, teach gym!" Brittany smiles and laughs.

Cass narrows her eyes. "Isn't that from a movie?"

Brittany cocks her head to the side. "No. Nope. I don't think so."

You can't help but chuckle. You nod to Cass and mouth _School of Rock_. She smirks back at you.

"I know someone who might be able to help you though." Brittany turns and scans the bar. "Quinn!" You look over to see Quinn standing by Puck smiling sweetly while he tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. What? Are they still going out? Puck hasn't said anything. That bastard. Quinn looks over at the sound of her name.

"What?"

"Come here."

Quinn stands up on her tip toes and places a kiss on Puck's cheek before walking over. "What Britt, can't you see I was busy?"

"Quinn, I'd like you to meet Cass. She's Santana's niece."

Cass waves slightly and Quinn looks her up and down. "Aren't you a little young to be in here?"

Cass rolls her eyes. "Bite me, Blondie."

You smirk as Quinn's eyebrows fly up toward her hairline. She looks at Brittany. "She is definitely related to Santana. Plus, they look like twins."

Brittany nods excitedly. "I know right. Anyway, can you help Cass, she has economics homework."

Quinn sighs and leans in to look over Cass' shoulder. "Supply and demand? Oh that's easy."

Cass scoffs. "Seriously, Britt, who is this bitch?"

"Cass, be nice to my best friend. She's really smart." Brittany juts out her lower lip and you laugh because there is no way Cass will be able to resist that pout. You never can and you know Cass will cave just like you do. Every damn time.

"I…" Cass glances at the shorter blonde who is still reading over the homework. "But… ugh. Fine. Please stop looking at me like that." She scowls and picks up her pencil. "So… _Quinn_, I am not good at econ and don't understand anything about supply and demand. It would be really, er…" she glances at Brittany, who smiles at her. "It would be really nice if you could help me."

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

You leave them to their boring talk and move down the bar to help two girls who are already falling over drunk. Great. Well, at least Britt is here to keep an eye on Cass.

Except, wait. Shouldn't Brittany be at work? You definitely remember there being a show scheduled for tonight. Scrunching your eyes in confusion, you mix the girls some rum and coke and hand it over before stepping out from behind the bar. Brittany gives you a hug when you walk over to where she's standing next to Cass.

"Hey baby." She leans down to kiss you and you relax under her familiar warmth.

"Hi." You look into her sparkling blue ocean eyes and smile. "What are you doing here? Don't you have a show?"

Brittany's thumb rubs across your cheek and you lean into the touch. "Yeah, there's a show. But the injured girl is back now. I was just a fill in."

You narrow your eyes. "But you're better than her."

"Maybe." Brittany shrugs. "But it was her job first."

A burst of anger fills your chest. "That's not fair to just kick you off though. Rachel said you made all the other dancers better."

Brittany laughs quietly. "It's okay, San. I knew I was just her replacement. That's how it works. Plus it's not like I lost my job, I'm still teaching." She nudges your noses together. "Relax, babe."

You deflate under Brittany's smile. "It's still not fair," you mumble.

"It's fair enough." She gives you a quick peck on the lips. "And as much as I love getting my sweet lady kisses on, I think you have customers to attend to." She points down the bar at a guy who just sat down. He's a regular, that married guy who always leaves nice tips. At least it's not that douche bag Jake.

"Yeah, okay." You sigh and reluctantly let your arms fall to your sides.

"I'll stay over tonight, if you want." Brittany winks at you and your throat goes dry.

"Okay." You wave at her and make your way back behind the bar.

You sigh in relief as you hand married guy his tab later. You've been mixing drinks nonstop for an hour and the place is finally starting to slow down a little bit. Slowly, you make your way back over to your girls and give Quinn another drink. Her and Cass are hitting it off now that they're both being nice.

As you're refilling Cass' coke again, she sets her pencil down triumphantly. "Yes, finished!" She laughs happily. "Thanks, Quinn."

"Sure," Quinn replies, her lips around her straw.

"How do you know all that stuff?"

Quinn shrugs. "I took a lot of econ in college. I run my own business now so it's like second nature to me."

Cass' eyes widen curiously. "What's your business?"

"Well," Quinn says, as she stirs her drink a little. "I'm a photographer and I have my business to sell my stuff, so… yeah."

Cass furrows her eyebrows in thought before they shoot up her head. "Wait. You're not Quinn Fabray are you?"

Quinn looks at her surprised. "Yeah I am…"

"No shit!" Cass smiles excitedly. "I love your photos. Seriously, that one you did with the shadows crossing the swings… what was it called?"

"Uh… Childhood Regrets?"

"_Yes_! I freaking love that one. It's so good!"

Quinn eyes her curiously. "Thanks. Except how do you know me? I'm not very well known, and certainly not famous…"

Cass shrugs. "I saw one of your pictures in this art gallery in Columbus I went to for a school trip back in Ohio and fell in love, so I researched you."

"Oh." Quinn looks at you, but you're just listening, you have no idea what's going on, so you shrug. "I barely even got into that gallery. I was a last minute thing."

"Well, you're awesome."

"Thanks, I guess." Quinn smiles shyly.

"Cass is an artist too, Q." Brittany smiles at Cass.

"Oh really?"

"Yep."

"Do you like photography?"

Cass shakes her head. "No, I like to draw and paint." She bites her lip and even though you can't see it, you can tell she's blushing.

"She's really good," you tell Quinn.

"Tía… I'm-"

"Shut up. Yes you are." You turn to Quinn. "She thinks she's not that good, but she's fucking awesome."

"Hmmm." Quinn nods curiously. "Well, I don't know much specifically about drawing and painting, but I know a lot about art. I could take a look at some of your stuff if you want?"

Cass looks down nervously. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Okay, well just let me know, I wouldn't mind."

Cass nods and sips at her drink. You get back to work.

* * *

><p>Later that night, you're lying nose to nose with Brittany, breathing heavily from your previous activities, when she says, "I wish Cass wasn't so self-conscious about her art. She's really good."<p>

You look at her curiously in the dark. "Have you seen her stuff?"

"Yeah." She twists her lips in thought and looks away from you. "At school."

"Oh."

Brittany makes a humming sound. "She could really go somewhere with a skill like that. An awesome art school or something. Do you know where she wants to go to college?"

"No…" You haven't really thought about it. To be honest, you hadn't really realized that college was so soon in her future.

"Well she needs to start looking. Especially if she wants to go somewhere good and wants to apply for early admission."

"Oh. I guess I'll have to talk to her about it."

Brittany nods and cups your cheek in the darkness. "I want to ask you something."

"Okay…" You hate when people say things like that. It makes you nervous. You shift a little closer to Brittany, tangling your bare legs together.

"What are you doing for Christmas?"

You furrow your eyebrows. "Nothing, just staying here. Why?"

Brittany bites her lips and shifts her attention from one of your eyes to the other, back and forth, like she's trying to memorize them. "I want you and Cass to come home with me."

You lean back, surprised. "Home? As in Colorado?"

Brittany nods. "Yeah."

"Why?" You look into her eyes for answers, but find none.

"I want my family to meet you. And Cass. The two of you are really important to me Santana."

"I…" She's looking at you with these big sincere eyes and your heart clenches. "I don't know Britt."

"Please? I want them to know you so badly, sweetheart." She takes your hand between hers and pouts.

You sigh. "I have to ask Cass."

"Okay," she smiles at you. "And if she says yes, you'll come?"

You hesitantly nod. Her smile widens and she kisses you fiercely. Damn, who knew a reluctant yes could warrant that reaction?

"Thanks, San, this is really important to me." You don't think you've ever seen Brittany more beautiful than in that moment. Her hair is sticking to her face and her makeup is slightly smudged. Her teeth stick out brightly in the darkness and her smile lights up her whole face. Her skin is rosy and still flustered from before and her eyes… damn. Her eyes are so twinkly and blue and they're looking at you so… adoringly. You feel your heart kick start and that strange feeling bubbles up in you again.

"Britt?"

"Yeah baby?" She leans her forehead against yours and you inhale the sweet scent that is purely Brittany.

"Your parents probably won't like me."

"What?" She eyes you curiously. "Why do you say that?"

Your insecurity bubbles out of you under her incredulous gaze. "I turned their daughter gay. And I have a shitty job, I work in a bar."

Brittany's arms pull you impossibly closer. Bare chests squeeze together and your head fits perfectly in the crook of her neck. "Baby, you didn't turn me gay."

"Yes, I did," you whisper, and feel unexpected tears build in the corners of your eyes.

"Santana, _no_ you didn't." Her hand comes up to your hair, smoothing it soothingly. "I love who I love. I like people. It doesn't matter to me what gender they are." She pauses for a moment. "Did anyone turn _you_ gay?"

"No." A few tears escape and Brittany's hand is quick to catch them and wipe them away. "I'm just like this."

"Well, I'm just like this too." She wipes at a few more of your tears. "It's not anyone's fault. And as for working in a bar, that's not a bad job. You make good money and there are lots of bars in New York, which means lots of bartenders. Somebody has to do it. And it's not like you're a stripper or something." She chuckles. "Although, I imagine I'd like you just the same if you were."

You manage to cut back the tears and sniffle a little bit. Brittany kisses the top of your head. You wonder how you got so lucky. "Why me?" You whisper out after a few moments.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh into Brittany's neck. "Of all the people in the bar that first night, you picked me. And you'd never even been with a girl before."

Brittany shifts in your arms and you can feel her smiling softly. "I don't know. You intrigued me. And you're like, the prettiest girl I've ever seen." Her fingers gently dance down your arm. "I looked at you… and I was drawn to you. I wanted you. Like I'd never wanted anyone before. I wanted to explore you and know you and I wanted to know your favorite color and what you like to do before bed and if you're a morning person. I wanted to know all your curves and bumps and freckles."

Brittany's voice grows soft and her hold on you becomes gentler. "I wanted to know why you had that lonely look in your eyes and why your smile was never completely full. How you could work behind a bar and hold your own against stupid guys and have so much confidence, but still look so insecure and lost."

Her hand finds yours under the covers. "I wanted to know everything. And I wanted to make it go away." You close your eyes and soak in the words as Brittany tells them to you, letting them fill you with warmth.

"You smiled once at me, when you thought Quinn stood me up. And it was so… cute. And real. And then in a second it was gone, replaced by your lonely eyes. And I thought, those eyes are too pretty to look like that. I knew if I could get you to smile once, I could do it again. So I made Quinn meet me there the next night instead. I wanted to see you again."

"This is a good story," you laugh lightly, your voice hoarse.

"It's not done yet." Brittany kisses your head again before continuing. "The next night, I came to the bar with the intention of getting to know you. But I admit, I was a little scared. I hadn't felt like this about a girl before. That doesn't mean anything really, it just made me nervous. And I was afraid for you to know who I was… just in case this was some weird experimentation curiosity thing I was going through."

You make a sound in the back of your throat. It's not like you hadn't had sex with girls like that in the past (they were really good for one night stands) but sometimes they would freak out the next morning and start yelling at you.

"Don't worry, it's not like that." Brittany squeezes your hand. "Anyway I saw you talking to that one guy, and I got really jealous. It was weird. I didn't even know you, but I felt like I had this claim on you or something." She laughs to herself. "And I saw you watching me while I was dancing, and I couldn't stop myself from stealing you away. I never really meant to hook up with you, but _Jesus_, Santana, do you know how sexy you are? Too fucking sexy." Your chest rumbles with laughter. Brittany cussing and saying sexy in the same sentence is weird. She's cute. "I couldn't stop."

She sighs. "But then I had to go to work, and I was afraid I screwed things up by sleeping with you and I left my number and you never called…"

"Sorry," you whisper. You hadn't meant to forget to call her. You hadn't really meant to call her either, though.

Brittany shrugs. "It worked out in the end, didn't it?" You nod. "So… yeah. That's why it was you."

You pull back and rest your head on the pillow so your noses are touching. "I'm glad you picked me."

Her eyes glint in the darkness. "I didn't really pick you. I don't think I really had a choice." Her nose scrunches adorably against yours. "But I'm glad too. You're a keeper." She laughs and rubs her nose against yours in an eskimo kiss. "I really like you, San." You can't help the huge smile that crosses your face and you laugh too before leaning in and capturing Brittany's lips in your own.

"I really like you too, Britt."

* * *

><p>You wake up before Brittany the next morning. A look at the clock tells you it's only nine, which is relatively early for you. Especially on a Sunday. But after watching Brittany sleep for a few minutes, you realize that you're not getting back to sleep any time soon. You sigh and roll out of bed, throwing on some clothes before heading to the kitchen to make coffee.<p>

Cass is sitting at the table when you walk in. You're surprised she's up, but maybe she always is up this early. You wouldn't know, you always sleep so late.

"Morning," you grunt to her as you start the coffee pot.

"Hey." She's sketching away in the sketch pad you got her for her birthday. Her pencil moves loosely across the paper. You sit down across from her and watch her draw until the coffee is done.

"You want a cup of this?"

"Sure."

You pour two cups and sit back down, sliding her mug across the table to her. She sketches for a few more minutes before she finally sets down the pencil and takes the mug between her hands. You wonder what she was drawing. She looks at you curiously when you clear your throat.

"Can I?" You gesture toward the pad.

She purses her lips before slowly nodding. "Yeah, okay."

Hesitantly, you reach for the pad and pull it closer. The drawing is of a swing set from behind looking over the swings and past them to the ground. On the ground are shadows of what look like kids and other blurry things you can't quite make out.

"It's a replica of one of Quinn's photographs," she says after a moment.

"Hmmm." The contrast between light and dark is really interesting. "It's really good Cass."

"It's okay. It's not an original though."

"The drawing and technique is still yours though. And it's good." You look up at her and she shrugs. You pass the pad back to her and take a sip of your coffee. "So…"

"So…" She looks at you curiously.

"What do you think about going to Colorado for Christmas?"

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why Colorado?"

"Well…" You look at her hesitantly. "Brittany wants her family to meet us."

"You mean you?" Cass raises an eyebrow.

"No. Us."

"Do we have to?" Cass groans out.

"No. That's why I'm asking you first. We can do whatever you want." You shrug and take a sip of your coffee.

She gives you that calculating look again. "Whatever I want? Isn't it your decision?"

"No, we should make a decision for what _we_ do over Christmas _together_." You look at her eyes, which are clouded. You're familiar with that expression. You wore it a lot in high school. Doubtful.

"Oh." She takes a sip of her coffee. "Well, what do you want to do?"

You sigh. "I don't really care. I'm okay if we just stay here, but Britt really wants us to go, so… whatever is fine with me."

"Hmmm." She looks at you curiously, but the look is broken when Brittany walks into the kitchen yawning. She's in your flannel pants and a sweatshirt.

"Morning," she yawns. "Mmm. Coffee." She grabs a mug from the cabinet and fills it to the brim before sitting next to you at the table.

You and Cass are both looking at her awkwardly. She doesn't realize you were just talking about her. "What?" She looks back and forth between the two of you.

"Nothing," you say.

"Actually," Cass interjects. "Something." You look at her strangely. "We're coming to Colorado for Christmas."

Brittany's eyes widen and she looks at you. "You are?" She exclaims.

"We are?" You ask.

"Yeah." Cass nods and looks at you. "We are."

Brittany smiles excitedly. "Awesome!" She pecks you on the lips. "I'm going to go call my mom and tell her. Be right back!" She rushes to your bedroom and you look at Cass for an explanation.

She shrugs. "She really wants us to go, I guess."

"Why are we going?"

"I just felt like we should." She smiles softly and you tilt your head to the side curiously.

"Ok…"

"Plus, I've never been to Colorado before. Should be fun, right?"

You nod. "Yeah, I guess so." You take another sip of your coffee and Brittany comes back.

"My mom is excited that you're coming. Except she said we have to sleep in separate rooms which is super lame, but that's okay because the guest room has a big enough bed for you and Cass while my old room is really tiny." She shrugs and sits in your lap, one arm coming up around your neck.

Cass raises her eyebrows. "Does she know that you practically live here and you guys have sex like, all the time? I swear one of you will get pregnant one of these days."

You close your eyes, sighing. You've become accustomed to the bluntness, and have sort of resigned yourself to the fact that this is how your life will be. Awkward, strange, and embarrassing things will come out of Cass' mouth and you will just have to sit there and take it.

Brittany simply shrugs, unaffected. "Maybe."

"Hmmm." Cass finishes her coffee and Brittany starts to make pancakes. "I'm going to shower." She starts to walk down the hall, but turns around at the doorway. "Tía, I swear to God if I come back and you guys are fucking on the kitchen counter, I will show Brittany those drunken stripper pictures of you I found in the closet."

"That's hot," says Brittany.

Cass just smirks and leaves, and you cover your face mortified. You'll get that girl a filter.

One of these days.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Hi readers! I just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing reviews. In spirit of the holidays, I give you my longest chapter yet, so I hope you enjoy Christmas in Colorado. I hope you all have a wonderful New Year!

* * *

><p>You're shaking. Your legs are wobbly and your breath is coming out in an awkward rhythm. The bright lights overhead are making you feel dizzy. You really need to sit down.<p>

"What's wrong with you?"

Through your daze, you are able to focus on Cass' face in front of you. "Nothing," you manage to breathe out.

She takes your shaking fingers into her hand and squeezes tightly. "You're freaking out."

You go to deny it, but can't seem to make a sound. You take deep breaths and eventually squeak out, "Yeah."

She rolls her eyes at you. "It's going to be fine."

You look at her doubtfully. How can she be so calm? You spent the whole flight lost in thought about meeting Brittany's parents and now you're mere minutes away from the moment. Standing by the baggage claim while Brittany talks on the phone to her mom, who is picking you guys up, you can't help but start to freak out.

"Relax," Cass says and squeezes your hand tighter. You think you might lose circulation in your fingers.

"I can't," you croak out. You really wish your heart would stop beating so fast.

Cass tilts her head to the side curiously. "I'll be right there with you. You don't need to be scared, Tía."

"I'm not scared," you snap. Oops. That wasn't supposed to sound so harsh. You take a deep breath and calm down a little bit. "Sorry. Just… what if they don't like me?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

You shrug. Brittany may have been able to assuage your fears before, but they were all rushing back now. Your heart starts to pick up again as you see Brittany walking back toward you, smiling.

"You guys ready? My mom's outside."

Cass looks at you cautiously before nodding to Brittany. "Yeah, let's go." She grabs her suitcase with one hand and holds tighter to your hand with the other. You're not sure if you should be offended that a teenager feels the need to lead you around. The comfort you feel from her small hand in yours pushes that thought out pretty fast though.

You follow Brittany through the airport and outside. The night air is crisp and dry and you shiver.

"Is it always this cold here, Britt?" Cass asks her, as you approach a midsize SUV idling at the curb of the pickup area.

"No, just at night during the winter. When the sun comes out tomorrow, it'll be pretty warm." She stops next to the car and smiles. A woman opens the driver's door and comes around the back. She is tall and blonde, just like Brittany. You recognize her from a picture on Brittany's mirror in her dressing room.

"Britt!" The woman gushes at Brittany and pulls her into a gigantic hug. You watch as Brittany smiles and laughs and squeezes back tightly.

"Hi Mom." They pull back and Brittany turns to you. You're pretty sure your heart might explode out of your chest, it's beating so hard. "Mom, this is my girlfriend, Santana Lopez."

You let go of Cass' hand and reach toward the woman. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Pierce." You hope she doesn't notice how much your hand is shaking.

"Oh, please, call me Becky." She reaches past your hand and grabs onto your shoulders, holding you at arm's length. You feel really awkward as you look into her bright blue eyes, so similar to her daughter's. "Brittany has told me so much about you. She told me how beautiful you were, but I don't think her words quite did you justice." You feel your cheeks grow hot despite the cold.

"Umm. Thank you?" You glance at Brittany and she shrugs.

"Momma, this is Cass." Brittany pushes Cass forward a little and you can tell Cass is restraining herself from smacking Brittany's arms away.

Mrs. Pierce lets go of you and takes Cass' face in her hands. "Oh my goodness. Look at you. Just as pretty as your aunt." She looks between you and Cass. "You two look so much alike. You could be sisters!"

You chuckle. "Yes, we've been told that a lot actually." You and Cass share a look and she raises an eyebrow at you. You smile and feel your nerves float away.

"It's nice to meet you," Cass says politely. "Thank you for letting us stay with you for Christmas."

Mrs. Pierce laughs and waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, it's our pleasure, dear." She grabs your suitcase and lifts it into the trunk. "Now let's get out of this cold."

You hop into the backseat of the car and Cass slides in next to you. Brittany is up front with her mom. If Mr. Pierce is anything like Becky, you realize you have nothing to worry about. You like Britt's mom already, she's really nice.

As the car pulls out onto the highway, Brittany asks, "How is dad doing?"

Brittany's mom shrugs. "He's been doing fine. Working way too much and not eating nearly enough, if you ask me, but you know how your father is." Brittany nods. "He might be sleeping when we get home."

The conversation topic turns to Brittany's life in New York and Brittany asks how her sister is, who, you learn, won't be joining you for Christmas as she is spending it with her new boyfriend in California where she goes to college. You enjoy listening to Brittany and her mom talk animatedly with each other. The smiles and laughs are constant and you're starting to relax in their company.

Cass has been quiet the whole ride and as you exit the highway, she reaches for your hand across the middle seat. You glance at her, but she's staring out the window. Maybe she is just as nervous as you were before. You squeeze her hand as you pull into a cute neighborhood. Mrs. Pierce finally parks in the driveway of a small house, and Cass looks at you anxiously before letting go of your hand and getting out of the car.

Brittany smiles at you as pull your suitcase out of the trunk. "My mom likes you."

You look to the front door where Mrs. Pierce is jiggling a key in the lock. "She's really nice, Britt."

Brittany nods. "Now, just my dad." She bites her lip. "I have to warn you, he's a little uptight."

"What do you mean?" You ask, but Brittany has already kissed you on the cheek and is making her way up the front steps. You look at Cass who shrugs.

"Come on Tía, it's cold as fuck out here." She turns and you have no choice but to follow.

Brittany's parent's house is warm and cozy inside, with hardwood floors and rich browns painted on the walls. You set your suitcase down in the hall and look around. Pictures of Brittany and another blonde, who you assume is Brittany's sister, line the walls.

Brittany and her mom have disappeared somewhere and you're about to go find them when you hear heavy steps coming down the stairs. You glance up and a man appears. He has jet black hair and is tall like Brittany. His eyes are a deep brown and they eye you curiously as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

He stares at you and after a moment, you can't handle the tension any longer. "Hi, you must be Mr. Pierce." You stick your hand out and he firmly grasps it. "Santana Lopez. It's nice to meet you, sir."

"You're Brittany's girlfriend?" His voice is low and gravely. It grates on you in a weird way.

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmm," he grunts out and turns to Cass. "And this is your daughter?" He eyes you suspiciously and you think he is trying to calculate how you could have a teenage daughter. You're quick to correct him.

"Oh, no. This is my niece, Cass." His harsh gaze lingers on Cass and you put your arm around her shoulders instinctively.

"Thank you for inviting us for Christmas, Mr. Pierce." Cass smiles softly and leans into you. Your grip tightens around her shoulders.

Mr. Pierce nods and continues to look at you curiously. You're starting to feel really tiny. Thankfully, Brittany bounds back down the hall at that moment.

"Dad!" She wraps him up in a big hug. Pulling back, she smiles at you. "Did you meet Santana?"

"Hi, B." Mr. Pierce says in that gruff voice. "Yeah, we just met." He smiles thinly at you. "How was your flight? I always hate traveling right before Christmas, it's so busy."

"Oh, it was fine." Brittany waves dismissively.

Mr. Pierce nods. "Well, I'm exhausted, but I thought I'd wait for you to get home. But now I'm off to bed. Night Britt." He smiles at Brittany and nods toward you and Cass before disappearing swiftly up the stairs. You watch him go before turning back to Brittany.

"I think he likes you," whispers Brittany.

You look at her questioningly. "Really?"

"Yeah." She looks up the stairs. "I think." She purses her lips and grabs your suitcase. "Come on, it's late. I'll show you where you're sleeping."

The bedroom you're sharing with Cass is upstairs and down the hall, right next to Brittany's. You drop your suitcases in there and look around. It's pretty plain, but the bed is decently sized. Brittany goes to her own room and Cass immediately crawls into bed. You get a few things out of your bag and go to the hall bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

When you step back out into the hall, you find Brittany leaning against the wall.

"Hey," she smiles at you and loops her arms around your waist.

Your arms fall around her neck. "Hi."

She leans her forehead against yours and hums out softly. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." You smile as she kisses your lips. You can't help the yawn that follows.

"Tired? You should get some sleep babe. Christmas Eve is a big day at the Pierce house." Brittany laughs and nudges your noses together.

"Oh yeah?"

Brittany places another kiss on your lips. "Mhmmm."

"Well, I guess I better be rested and ready to go if I need to impress the folks," you joke.

"Guess so." Brittany tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and sighs. "I wish you could sleep in my bed."

You resist Brittany's pout. You want that too, but you're not about to upset her parents. "Me too, but I don't think that's going to happen."

She sighs again. "I know." She looks into your eyes, searching. "I'll miss you," she whispers.

Something in your stomach clenches tightly. "I'll miss you, too."

Brittany kisses you again, long and lingering, and your stomach clenches even tighter. "Goodnight beautiful."

"Night Britt." You spare her another glance before shutting the bedroom door behind you and crawl into bed.

You stare at the ceiling and let the wave of nerves unravel from your chest. It feels like you haven't been able to breathe since the plane landed. You wish you could relax as you fall asleep with Brittany's arms holding you close. You sigh and hear Cass shift beside you.

"Okay, what's the deal with Brittany's dad?" She whispers.

You scrunch your nose. "I don't know, I'm sure he's just cautious about meeting his daughter's girlfriend, you know?"

You can feel her eyes on you in the darkness. "I don't know, Tía, he's creepy as fuck."

You roll over so you're facing her. "Cass language. And be quiet, Britt's room is _right there_."

She rolls her eyes. "What, I'm just saying." She snorts. "And he totally thought you were my mom. You definitely don't look old enough for that."

You smile. "You said I looked old the first time we met."

She shrugs. "I didn't mean it. You're hot shit."

You shake your head in amusement. "Right."

"Look, I'm just saying, he's on my radar. He gives me major creeper vibes."

You roll your eyes. "I'm sure it's nothing. Go to sleep." You roll over and close your eyes. You really are exhausted.

Cass huffs behind you. "Fine. I'm still watching him, though. Don't worry, Tía, I've got your back." She shifts and you hold back the laugh creeping up your throat.

"Night, Loser."

She yawns. "Night, you old Grandma."

You roll your eyes and let her deep breathing lure you into sleep.

* * *

><p>You're alone when you wake up. You try to rub the sleep from your eyes as you glance around and remember you're not at home. A burst of laughter echoes from down the hall, so you roll out of bed and follow the sound.<p>

When you enter the kitchen, Mrs. Pierce and Brittany are fussing over the stove and Cass is sitting at the table, smiling. Cass looks over as you enter. "Hey."

"Hi," you croak out, voice raspy from sleep.

Mrs. Pierce smiles at you. "Good morning, Santana. Are you hungry? There's pancakes."

"Okay," you yawn. Brittany places a plate in front of you and a kiss on your lips.

"Babe, are you musically talented?"

You furrow your eyebrows. "Am I what?"

She rolls her eyes at you, a whirlwind of blue. "Can you do anything musical, like play an instrument or something?"

"She can sing."

Brittany's head whips to look at Cass. "She can?"

"You've never heard me sing." You shoot her a glare.

She smirks at you. "You sing in the shower all the time."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"_No_, I don't."

"I've heard you!"

"You haven't heard shi -"

"Guys!" Brittany cuts in. "Jeez. Chill out." She looks at you. "Can you sing or not?"

You return her gaze hesitantly. "I guess…"

"Alright then."

"Why do you want to know?" You look at her questioningly.

"Eat your pancakes and then you'll see."

* * *

><p>The sun beats down on you as you look over at Brittany hesitantly. The winter breeze makes the temperature perfect, but you're sweating nervously.<p>

"You ready, babe?" Brittany smiles at you and your stomach drops. Whether it's from anxiety or from the radiance of Brittany's grin, you're not quite sure.

"Are we allowed to do this? Don't you need a permit for this or something?" Your voice is shaky.

You're standing in the middle of town on a corner of the sidewalk. People rush by you, getting last minute shopping down.

"No, you don't." Cass looks up at you from her place on the sidewalk. She's leaning over a canvas and setting out some spray paints and tape and a sharp scraper. You look at her curiously and her eyes snap to Brittany who is giving her a strange look. "I already checked," she says, but it sounds like more of a question.

Brittany nods. "We do this every year." Then she smiles again. "Except now we have two more people so it's twice as awesome." She looks behind her. "You ready, Mom?"

Mrs. Pierce looks up from where she's tuning a guitar. The case lay open at her feet. "Ready when you are, sweetheart."

"Cool." Brittany smiles at you. "What about you? You ready?"

You sigh reluctantly. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

She nods again. "Okay, Mom, go."

Mrs. Pierce starts strumming the opening cords to Fleetwood Mac's Landslide. You take a deep breath and start singing. The words come out hoarse at first, but then they start to flow more smoothly. Brittany is gracefully dancing beside you and Cass is spraying paint onto her canvas at your feet. You feel kind of awkward, singing out in the middle of the sidewalk, but a smile takes over your face when people slowly begin to stop and watch.

As you sing, you watch Brittany's body get lost in the melody. Her eyes are closed and she doesn't even look like she's concentrating. She is completely at ease. You think she is the most beautiful and perfect thing you have ever seen. Your heart swells in your chest and you have to look away.

Your gaze wanders to Cass between verses. She spins her canvas as she sprays it, then rips off a piece of tape, leaving a white strip to cut across the light blue that covers the material. She places more tape over the canvas and uses the scraper to make little designs through the paint before switching colors.

As you watch them, you can't help but think how much the song relates to your life now. Both girls overwhelmingly fell into your lap at a time when you were living each day the same. They forced you to realize you're getting older and you have choices to make and responsibilities to handle. All the things and routines you had thought you built your life around had changed to accommodate them. You can't remember a time when you'd been happier, and you think that maybe, those changes weren't so hard or as frightening as you had originally felt they might be.

As the song comes to a close, Brittany opens her eyes and smiles at you and your heart beats faster in your chest. You think you detect a look of pride in her baby blue eyes as the people around you clap and whistle. People step forward from the crowd and toss bills into the guitar case at Mrs. Pierce's feet.

Cass stands up and shows her picture to the crowd. It's of the mountains that stand watching in the distance, towering majestically over the city. Her smile is huge as people clap. One man steps forward. "How much do you want for it?"

She looks him up and down. "How much are you offering?"

"I'll give you thirty."

She purses her lips. "I'll give it to you for thirty-five." You're shocked at her confidence. She debates the price like a pro.

The man hands over the money and Cass gives him the painting before tossing the bills into the guitar case. "Careful, it's still drying." The man nods and tenderly handles the wet canvas.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" You ask her.

"What, bargain?"

"No, spray paint like that."

She bites her lip and raises an eyebrow. "Uh, I just taught myself. It wasn't too hard."

"Huh." You look at her curiously, but she avoids your eyes and starts preparing another canvas. She glances at Brittany before she starts shaking another can.

You look at your girlfriend, but she just smiles at you and shrugs. "I didn't know you could sing like that."

You feel your face getting hot. Well, hotter than it already was from singing and nerves. "I was in glee club in high school."

Brittany looks at you strangely. "Really? I can't seem to picture that." The playful glint in her eye tells you she's teasing you.

"I was the coolest one there," you're quick to point out.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "Of course you were."

You shrug sheepishly. Then a thought occurs to you. "Hey, B. Where's your dad?"

She looks over to Mrs. Pierce, who is organizing the bills in the guitar case. "Oh, he's working." Mrs. Pierce shrugs.

Brittany nods in response. "He doesn't usually come out with us."

You quirk your head to the side. "He has to work on Christmas Eve?"

Brittany rolls her eyes. "He works all the time, I don't think Christmas Eve is really an excuse not to. For him anyway."

"Oh." You're surprised at Brittany's slight irritation. "What does he do?"

"He's an investment banker… thingy." She shrugs. "I don't know exactly what, but he never leaves his office except to go meet with clients."

"Hmmm."

"It's nothing to worry about, dear," Mrs. Pierce speaks up. "You ready to go again?"

You look at Brittany and she smiles at you, her previously happy expression returning. "Yeah, okay."

You spend the next hour singing different songs, Brittany dancing beside you, with Cass at your feet, and Mrs. Pierce strumming along. "How much did we make?" You ask as Mrs. Pierce stuffs the money in a jar.

"$236.28."

"Wow." Cass raises her eyebrows and smiles happily. "That's awesome!"

Brittany nods. "Totally, that's twice as much as we usually make." She and Cass high-five.

"What do you do with the money?" You ask her.

Brittany turns to you and smiles the biggest smile you've ever seen grace her perfect features. "You'll see later. But come on, let's go home, I'm starving."

* * *

><p>If there is one thing that life has taught you, it's that when things start to look up, they will always come crashing down. Every single time.<p>

"Cass, can you pass the potatoes?"

You can't help but squirm awkwardly in your seat at dinner with the Pierce's that night. Mr. Pierce sits stiff in his seat at the head of the table and he keeps shooting you curious glances. It's making you extremely uncomfortable. Brittany, of course, remains completely aloof as she asks Cass for the potatoes.

Halfway, though the ham Mrs. Pierce prepared, Mr. Pierce finally addresses you. "So, Santana." You look at him apprehensively. "Are you from New York?"

You clear your throat, hoping your voice isn't crackly. "No, actually I'm from Ohio, but I went to school at NYU."

He nods his head. "And what did you get your degree in?"

"Political Science with a minor in sociology."

"Hmmm." He eyes you curiously. "And has that degree gotten you far? What do you do now, if you don't mind me asking?"

You shoot Brittany a worried look, but she doesn't seem to notice. Figures. Hesitantly, you answer, "Actually, I haven't really pursued a job in that field. I work for my friend." You hope he'll leave it at that. Unfortunately, those hopes are dashed.

"I see. And what does that entitle exactly?"

"He owns a bar." You hold your breath.

Mr. Pierce's eyes narrow slightly. "Do you manage it, or…?"

You put your fork down. "Well, I do have a manager's salary, but I mostly just mix the drinks and attend to the customers."

Mr. Pierce nods slightly and you feel Cass shift beside you in her seat. A hushed stillness has fallen over the table and you feel like you're breathing too loudly. "And how did you meet Brittany?"

Internally, you groan. "Actually she came into the bar, and that's how we met."

Mr. Pierce's eyebrows shoot up his face. "You picked my daughter up in a bar?"

"Actually Daddy, I approached Santana," Brittany finally cuts in and shoots you an apologetic glance across the table. An awkward silence envelops the room, and you cut back into your ham, hoping that's the end of the interrogation.

Mrs. Pierce clears her throat. "So, Cass, how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen." She smiles at Mrs. Pierce.

"Oh, you're very mature for your age." Mrs. Pierce nods to herself. "How long have you lived with Santana?"

"A couple of months." Cass shrugs nervously.

Mrs. Pierce makes an interested noise. "Oh, not very long then. Why did you move to New York?"

Cass opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She closes it and looks to you anxiously.

"Mom, Cass is in my gym class at school." Brittany states.

"Is that so?" She shoots Brittany a curious glance.

"Yeah, we have a good time, don't we Cass?" Brittany's eyes twinkle playfully and you would laugh, but you're still nervous from your prior questioning.

Cass smiles good-naturedly, her anxiety visibly vanishing. "Oh, yeah, best class ever."

Brittany looks at her mom. "Cass doesn't like gym much. But she is amazing at art."

Mrs. Pierce smiles. "I can tell."

"Where do you plan on going to college?" Mr. Pierce asks curiously, his hand scratching at the back of his neck as he eyes Cass.

"I haven't really thought about it."

He nods. "Well do you know what you want to do?"

She shrugs. "Probably something with art."

Mr. Pierce snorts. "Don't you think that's a useless field in today's society?"

"Dan!" Mrs. Pierce shoots her husband an incredulous glance.

"What?" He waves his fork around. "I'm just stating the fact that in today's economy, being an artist isn't all that sensible of a career. It's unstable. She should really consider more practical courses to study."

You feel anger bubble in your chest. Is this guy serious?

"Dad, I make a reasonable amount of money when I pick up my dancing gigs." Brittany's eyes glow dangerously as she looks down the table at her father.

He sighs. "Yes, but that's _when_ you get them. You don't have a stable source of income when it comes to your dancing. You barely have one when it comes to your teaching."

"I make enough," Brittany growls. You don't think you've ever seen her mad before. It's kind of scary. "And I love teaching."

Mr. Pierce sighs. "I just worry about you, Brittany. Moving to New York seems to have skewed your perception of the world and how to survive comfortably. First your ridiculous dancing fantasy, and now picking up strangers in bar. And a woman especially." He shakes his head. "It's just not the right lifestyle for you, honey."

You stare at Mr. Pierce in shock. It's fine that he doesn't like you, but to state it so bluntly? You clench your hands tightly around your napkin in your lap.

Mr. Pierce continues. "And I don't think the people you've been surrounding yourself with are good influences on you. Clearly there are inappropriate reasons for this young girl," he points at Cass, "to be living with her aunt. Are your parents meth cooks, sweetheart?" He looks at Cass softly, but she stares at him with her mouth open. You're pretty sure your expression is the same. He thinks her parents own a _meth lab? That's_ his conclusion?

"Dad!" Brittany turns to Cass. "Cass don't answer that question."

"What Brittany, I'm genuinely worried about the implications of the situation!" Mr. Pierce's brown eyes look almost black and you stare at him angrily.

"How dare you ask that question!" Brittany snarls across the table. Mrs. Pierce seems to be extremely fascinated by her potatoes. "You're being outrageously rude. Santana and Cass are our guests, you can't just sit there and interrogate them like this is some crime show."

"Don't raise your voice at me Brittany!" He glares back at her. "I just have your best interests at heart."

"Well you're pissing me off!"

"I can't do this right now." Mr. Pierce stands up. "I thought I raised you better than this Brittany." He eyes you one last time, before making his way out of the room. Mrs. Pierce follows him. Brittany puts her head in her hands and you stare at the table, furious. It's one thing for Mr. Pierce to disapprove of your job and that you are dating his daughter, but for him to so aggressively attack Cass and Brittany is something else. You have half a mind to chase after the guy and rip him a new one.

Instead, you slowly stand up and avoid Brittany's eyes, knowing they might set you over the edge. "I'm going for a walk," you mutter. You don't want to do anything you'll regret.

You grab your jacket from the hook by the front door and step outside, breathing in the cold air. Briskly, you set a pace away from the Pierce house. You still can't believe what Mr. Pierce said.

You've been walking for a long time and your ears are starting to hurt from the cold when you see a building on your right. On closer inspection, you see it's a church. You walk up to it and slowly pull the door open.

The church is empty, but candles are lit all around the small space. They're probably in preparation for the midnight mass. You slide into the last pew and try to breathe deeply, getting lost in the way the flames dance around the altar. A statue of the crucifixion looks slightly alarming in the low light.

You haven't been to a church since you got kicked out. Your mom always made you go, every Sunday, for as long as you can remember. You always hated it, the boring preaching of the pastor and the same songs every Sunday. Always having to dress up and roll out of bed early. You were constantly losing the battle to stay awake during the sermon. You close your eyes and try to let your anger slip away in the tranquility of the empty room.

A sweet scent hits your nose and you feel a body slide in next to you in the pew. You open your eyes and turn to look at the figure. Brittany's cheeks are red from the cold and her hair is slightly windblown. She stares ahead and doesn't say anything so you close your eyes again and grab her hand, lacing your fingers together. You sit like that for a few minutes until Brittany finally breaks the silence.

"Ever since I was little, I knew that I wanted to dance when I grew up." She remains staring straight ahead, so you take the time to look at her. Her voice is soft and distant. "Dancing was the only thing that made me feel confident. I was never good at school." She pauses and you squeeze her hand, letting her know you're listening.

"I wanted to go to college for dance. But instead, I stayed here in state and got my teaching license." She sighs. "The effort I had to make to not flunk out of college took all my time away from dancing. I hated it." She finally turns to look at you. "My dad was so proud of me when I graduated. For awhile, all my hard work and unhappiness seemed worth it."

Brittany looks forward again and stops talking, but you can't think of anything to say so you just sit there. Eventually she continues. "I didn't realize it, but I was slowly starting to resent him, you know? For making me afraid to pursue my dreams. One day, it just bubbled out me and I couldn't take it anymore. I told him I was moving to New York. I needed to get away."

She shrugs next to you and clenches your hand tightly. "He reluctantly let me go. I stayed with Mike until I found my job teaching gym." She smiles slightly. "It was supposed to be a temporary thing, until I could get an in somewhere dancing. But I fell in love with teaching, and the dancing opportunities were slim." She snorts. "My dad had an 'I told you so' moment when I called and told him."

"What about your mom?" You cut in softly, not wanting to disturb her monologue.

Brittany sighs. "She's like my best friend. She's so supportive of everything I want to do. But she can never handle confrontation with my dad, so it's just me against him most of the time." She rolls her eyes and continues. "I love teaching. But dancing is still my dream, and if opportunities ever come up for me, I will take them in a heartbeat."

She talks about dancing so passionately. Her tone of voice and the look in her eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

"What was your dream?" She asks you suddenly and you're caught off guard.

"Uh…" You shift uncomfortably. "I never really had one."

"Never?"

You shrug. "Just to get out of Lima."

She looks at you curiously. "Do you have one now?"

You think about it, and the dinner conversation rings in your ears. "Yeah, I do. My dream is to help Cass do whatever she wants to do with her life." You nod determinedly as if you hadn't just thought of it now, but had wanted it all along. Maybe you had, you just hadn't realized it. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure she can fulfill her dreams." You meet Brittany's eyes. Bright blue glistens softly and you wonder if she's tearing up or if her eyes are just reflecting the flames. "She deserves the best," you finish softly.

"She does." Brittany brings your hand up and kisses it softly. "You're amazing, Santana." She smiles at you and her voice goes down to a whisper. "I'm _so_ sorry about what my dad said. I feel so awful."

You nod and run your thumb across her knuckles. "It's not your fault, Britt."

She shrugs and bites her lip. "I still feel bad."

"It's okay. I promise. Don't be sad, sweetheart." You move a stray strand of hair off her forehead gently. She leans into your hand and closes her eyes and you caress her cheek softly.

"San?" Her voice is low and soft.

"Yeah, Britt-Britt?"

"I…" She pauses and her eyes meet yours. You're filled with an overwhelming sensation in the pit of your stomach and you can't look away. "I think we should get home, Cass is waiting." She finally finishes and lets out a breath.

"Okay." You have a feeling she wanted to say something else, but you're curiosity makes you sidetrack. "Wait, what is she doing?"

"She was drawing, but she said something about going to bed."

"Oh." You nod. "How did you find me?"

Brittany shrugs and a small smile flits across her lips. "I just had a feeling when I walked by."

You look at her curiously but say nothing, allowing her to lead you back into the cold and away from the church.

* * *

><p>Cass is still drawing when you get back, but she doesn't let you see this one. She is quiet until the lights are off and the only sound in your bedroom is your breath mixing together in the air above the bed.<p>

"Tía?"

You roll on your side to look at her. "Yeah?"

"Do you believe in God?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "I don't know what to believe. Why do you ask?"

She turns and looks at you. "Brittany told me she found you in a church. Just wondering if you were religious."

"Oh. Do you?"

Cass sighs and bites her lip. "I didn't for a long time."

You lean up on your elbow to look at her better. "What about now?"

She grabs your hand and twiddles your fingers on the bed distractedly. "I don't know exactly. I believe in something. I just don't know what."

You look down at where your hands are clasped before answering. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she begins. "I don't know exactly what's out there, if it's God, or whatever. But I think something has to be. Because my life sucked. And I prayed and prayed for my dad to get better. But then he got arrested and I thought that God can't exist, or maybe he hates me, because he did the opposite of what I prayed and left me parentless."

She sighs and looks up at you. "Now I realize that he did answer my prayers because my dad getting arrested was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Don't you miss him?" You wonder how she could like that her dad is suffering in jail. Was it really that bad?

"No, not really. It's not like he was ever around." She shrugs and weaves her fingers between yours. "Plus, now I have you."

Your eyes widen in surprise and you feel your lips curve up. She smiles softly at you and squeezes your hand. "And I have Britt."

"Hmmm." You nod and look back down at your hands on the bed.

After a minute, Cass whispers, "She loves you, you know."

Your eyes snap back up to hers. "What? How do you know? Did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to tell me." You look down at her questioningly. "Can't you see how she looks at you? That girl is head over heels for you, Tía."

You open and close your mouth, not really knowing what to say. Does Brittany love you? You slump back down on the pillow, confused.

"She didn't have to tell me, but that doesn't mean she didn't," Cass says eventually.

You shift your eyes over to her. "She said something?"

She smirks at you. "Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Point is, she loves you."

You look at her curiously. "What do I do?"

She rolls her eyes. "Tell her that you love her too. Obviously." She shakes her head. "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one, Ms. 'I have a degree'?"

"Are you making fun of me from what happened at dinner?"

Cass smirks. "Yep."

You scoff. "Why do you have to ruin all of our nice moments with a witty comment?"

"It's just who I am." She shrugs and laughs. "You're not trying to change me are you?" She gasps dramatically.

"Oh my God, shut up."

She laughs. "Whatever." It's silent for a few moments until you hear her laugh again. "Kay, but what did I tell you about Mr. Pierce? Total douche bag."

You look at her again. "Aren't you pissed about what he said?"

"No not really." She plays with your fingers again. "He's right, being an artist isn't a practical career. I already knew that."

You look her in the eyes. "Cass, listen, you can do whatever you want. Don't listen to closed-minded people like him. You're amazing and you can go to college wherever you want." You pause as you realize something. "That is, if you even want to go to college."

She shrugs next to you. "I do. I'm pretty sure I want to go to art school, but I still have a little bit of time to think about it."

You nod, surprised at her maturity. "We can start looking into it when we get back to New York."

"Okay." She yawns and rolls on her back, keeping a tight grip on your hand. "Anyway, I don't care what he thinks about my parents. This is the way things are and I'm fine with you, so it's whatever, you know?"

You sigh reluctantly, still slightly upset. "I guess."

"You worry too much. You're getting wrinkles."

You fight back a laugh. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"Always so grumpy," Cass mumbles, but you hear her breathing start to even out. You fall asleep shortly after that, your hand still tightly clasped in hers.

* * *

><p>"San, wake up."<p>

You grumble at the person calling you. You're pretty sure it's too early to wake up.

"Santanaaaa." The person whines. You ignore them. Maybe they'll go away.

You feel a hand creep under your shirt, cold fingers circling your belly button. Your eyes shoot open to see vibrant blue staring back at you.

"Thought that'd get you up." Brittany smirks at you and removes her hand from your shirt. You blink at her and yawn.

"What time is it?"

"Nine."

"Nine? Britt that's early." You whine and pout.

She shakes her head in amusement. You can't seem to find the same enjoyment in the situation. "It's not that early, babe."

"It's too early to get up."

"But I have your present. Unless you don't want it?" Brittany asks innocently. Like you're falling for that one.

"Fine." You roll your eyes and reach your palm out. "I am ready to be bestowed with lots of gifts."

She raises her eyebrows at you. "Bestowed?"

"Yes. Bestowed."

"Well I only have one gift, but I guess I could bestow it on you now." She smiles cutely and kisses your lips.

You scrunch your nose. "Was that my gift?"

She sighs and reaches behind her on the bed, revealing a small, neatly wrapped package. "Here, princess."

You peel off the paper and open the small box. Something silver glints at you. You pull it out and dangle it between your fingers, your mouth open.

"It's a bracelet," says Brittany. "And it has your birthstone, and umm... Cass' birthstone, because I know how important she is to you…" She trails off nervously. "It's kind of stupid, but I thought it'd be cool because I got Cass one too, so you guys are like, matching."

You finally close your mouth. "It's beautiful, B." She finally meets your eyes and you smile at her. "Put it on me." You hold out your wrist.

"You like it?" She fastens the bracelet around your wrist and you turn it every which way, admiring it.

"Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you." You kiss her softly. "Now how about your present?" You get off the bed and rummage in your suitcase before pulling out a thin package.

Brittany takes it from you and gently unwraps the paper. Anticipation floods through you as she opens the box. Her eyes widen and her lips crack into a huge grin. "Oh my God, San, this is so pretty." She pulls out the necklace you got her, studded with a few tiny diamonds. "It must have cost you a fortune." She slaps you on the arm.

"Ow, Britt. It didn't cost _that_ much." It was originally pretty expensive, but you got it on sale. You would've gotten it anyway, but… yay for sales.

She scoffs. "Fine." She hands you the necklace and holds her hair up and you clasp it so it hangs nicely around her neck. You kiss her neck gently as she lets her hair back down. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Yeah, course." You smile softly at her. "So what are the plans for today?"

She smiles back at you and her eyes twinkle. "You hungry?"

* * *

><p>"Tía, what are you getting?" Cass purses her lips as she looks over her menu.<p>

"French toast." You think it's weird that the Pierce's go out to breakfast on Christmas, like, who knew places were even open today? But Mr. Pierce isn't here and you're hungry and happy sitting next to Brittany with her hand in your lap, so… whatever.

"Britt what are _you_ getting?"

"Waffles." She rolls her eyes at you and squeezes your hand underneath the table.

"I don't know what to get." Cass whines.

"Well you better decide, here comes the waitress." You laugh at her panicked expression as the waitress sidles up to your table.

Cass ends up getting waffles too and you're surprised that the diner you're sitting in is actually really good. Who knew? You smile as Brittany wipes a little bit of syrup off of Cass' face and Cass swats her hand away. Mrs. Pierce pays for the meal and you remind yourself to thank her a million times.

After she pays, you're about to scoot out of the booth when she pulls a jar out of her purse. It's full to the brim with money and you recognize it as the money you earned yesterday in town. The waitress comes back and Mrs. Pierce hands her the jar.

"Merry Christmas, dear," Mrs. Pierce says with a smile and you look on in awe. The waitress can't seem to say anything.

"What's this?" She eventually squeaks out.

"That's your tip. Thank you for serving us today." The waitress holds the jar tenderly, and you look over at Cass whose eyes are wide as saucers.

The waitress breaks out in a huge smile and hugs Mrs. Pierce. "Oh my God. Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me."

"Well, nobody deserves to work on Christmas. So spend it wisely."

"I will, thank you." The waitress shakes Mrs. Pierce's hand and scurries away.

"What was that?" Cass asks.

Mrs. Pierce looks at her happily. "Oh that? That was Brittany's idea. When she was twelve, she saw that this place was open on Christmas and decided that we should come in here and leave a huge tip because nobody should have to work on such a magical day. It's quite genius really." She smiles at Brittany and shrugs nonchalantly. "Excuse me, I have to go the ladies, I'll be right back."

You turn to look at Brittany in awe. Who is this amazing, kind, generous girl? She looks back at you sheepishly, her ears turning red. You can't believe she's yours. That strange feeling swells in your stomach again and the without thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth.

"I love you." You blush, but don't take it back. You're suddenly positive that you'd never been more sure of anything.

Brittany blinks back at you in shock, but after a minute she smiles and shrugs. "I love you, too."

Cass clears her throat on the other side of the table. "Get a room. You guys are disgustingly cute. I might throw up my waffles." She sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. You feel giddy, like you might burst with happiness.

The moment is complete when Brittany leans down and captures your lips between hers and it feels like everything else disappears.

* * *

><p>The next day, you're glad to be going home. Turns out, Colorado isn't really the place for you. The mountains were really cool, but what the heck, it didn't even snow at all while you were here. Britt says it's mostly sunny here, but you're pretty sure the state is known for its skiing. Skiing means snow. You feel jipped.<p>

Brittany and Cass are outside loading the bags into the car as you're lugging the last one down the stairs. What did Cass pack? Her bag is fucking heavy. You have your hand on the doorknob when you hear a small cough behind you. When you turn around, you're met with the brown eyes of Mr. Pierce. You stare at him, but can't find it in you to say anything. After dinner the other night he's been MIA, and you kind of hoped it would stay that way. Apparently not.

He scratches the back of his neck and sighs. "Look, Santana, I want to apologize for how I acted the other night. I realize now that my commentary was not only unwanted, but extremely inappropriate."

You reluctantly nod in response. You don't totally forgive him, but you accept his apology.

"I hope you can understand that I just want Brittany to be happy and only want what is truly best for her."

"I understand. You wouldn't be a good parent if you didn't want that." You shrug and tighten your grip on the doorknob.

Mr. Pierce nods slightly. "I can see that you make my daughter happy, and I will try to come terms with the situation. I hope you can forgive me." You stare at him, unsure. "Please tell your niece how sorry I am, as well." You nod, at least that's one thing you can agree with.

A honk sounds from outside and you pull open the door. "It was nice to meet you Mr. Pierce." You hold out your hand and he shakes it awkwardly. Before letting go, you look him straight in the eye and take a deep breath, working up your courage. "I care about your daughter very much. And I promise I won't let anybody hurt her." He nods and you continue. "Including you, sir."

You drop his hand and with a last curt nod, you walk outside, ready to get back to your everyday life and the two girls you'd do anything for.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** So when I first started this story it was because I have a love for writing and a sad and pathetic (by that I mean awesome) obsession with Brittana. But I continue it because of you guys. Thank you so much for all the criticism, reviews, and for sticking with this story. You guys are really humbling and keep me motivated. I don't name my chapters, but if I did, this one would be called Baseball and New Year's. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

><p>Sometimes in life, you are thrown curveballs. It seems to be an additional unwritten law of physics (although to be realistic, such a rule would defeat the laws of physics, which tend to be unrealistically predictable). But because of this unwritten law of physics, you have made it a rule to expect the unexpected.<p>

However, no matter how unexpected it may have been, you never expected that you would someday be sitting in a coffee shop across from a beautiful blonde who you had (unexpectedly) fallen for. You also never expected to be staring in awe as said blonde laughed with your niece, who, also unexpectedly, has become the most important person in your life. And to think, just a few months ago, you had no idea these two people even existed.

Like you said, life likes curveballs (not that you're _that_ into baseball where you could use it as metaphor because that is just too lesbian for you and like, the Yankees aren't even _that_ good. Not that you would know, it's not like you watched them _totally_ cream the Reds this year…).

The point is, that because of your rule to expect the curveball that life will inevitably throw at you, you may have forgotten to watch out for the changeup. And that is why you don't expect to look up and see the two most important people in your life looking at you curiously.

"What? Sorry I zoned out for a second." You look back and forth between them and it makes you uneasy to see Brittany looking at you expectantly while Cass looks at you with wide, panicked eyes.

"I said, since Christmas was such a success, I was wondering when I get to meet _your_ family, San." Brittany raises an eyebrow at you and suddenly Cass' panicked expression makes sense.

It's not like you purposely avoided the 'my family hates me' talk with Brittany. You just… happened to not talk about it while also, maybe, kind of, sort of avoiding it. Those are two vastly different things.

"Oh." Now Cass is looking at you like you are the dumbest person alive. Her eyes are practically screaming at you that you're a moron for not telling Brittany this sooner. "Well about that…" You stop, unsure how to continue.

Cass huffs loudly across the table. "You are an idiot. I can't believe you didn't tell her."

Brittany looks between the two of you. "Tell me what?" You glare at Cass. She is definitely _not_ helping.

"She doesn't have anyone for you to meet." Cass looks at Brittany. "Her mom like, totally disowned her."

"Cass, shut up."

"Why, I'm not the one that's too scared to tell my girlfriend that my parents hate me."

You stare at her angrily. "Screw you."

"Wait, Cass you have a girlfriend?" Brittany looks surprised.

"What?" Cass thinks about it. "Oh, no that was hypothetical Britt. I was talking about her." She nods her head at you.

"I'm so confused." Brittany's forehead scrunches in confusion, but you're too pissed at Cass to appreciate the cuteness of the expression.

"My mom kicked me out when I was sixteen," you state bitterly. Now that it's out there, you might as well tell it how it is. Cass sucks, stupid little bitch (what, you're allowed to say that in your head, aren't you?).

Brittany looks at you, confused. "Why?"

You shrug. "I'm gay."

You watch as Brittany's expression turns from confused to surprised to angry to sad. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." You shrug.

"What about your dad?"

"He left when I was little." You avoid her eyes because you don't want her to see your expression. Not that you're sad or angry about either of these things anymore, because you're _not_. You just… don't want her to see.

The table is silent and you look up to see Brittany looking at you sadly and Cass licking whipped cream off the straw to her Frappuccino, apparently bored. You could punch her, seriously.

"It's not a big deal," you eventually get out. "I'm an adult now, and it doesn't matter anymore."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brittany's eyes flash with hurt and you feel really guilty. And a little pissed that Cass was right, you should've told Britt before. Fucking stupid.

You bite your lip. "I'm sorry, Britt." You frantically search your brain for an excuse, but come up blank. You sigh. "I should've told you."

"Yeah, you should've," Cass cuts in.

"Cass, _shut up_," you snap at her.

"Don't give me attitude, you got yourself into this situation. It's not _my_ fault."

"Yeah, well she didn't want you either so shut up."

Your eyes widen. Crap. You didn't mean to say that.

Cass stares at you for a second, and you can feel the tension that has suddenly covered your little booth in the back of the coffee shop. Brittany's eyes tick between the two of you like the second hand on a clock.

You're pretty sure Cass is going to yell, maybe cause a scene and storm out. But apparently life likes screwballs too. Her eyebrows furrow and she turns to Brittany. "Hi, I'm Santana's only family, and she's mine. I'm glad we could meet." She holds out her hand and Brittany looks at it confused, before finally shaking it.

"I'm glad we could meet too," she says slowly and looks at you. You just stare at the both of them, shocked.

Cass smirks and looks at you. "You should really close your mouth, Tía, you look like a dead fish."

Your jaw snaps shut and she laughs before continuing to lick her straw. Brittany tilts her head to the side and looks at you curiously, her eyes big and wide like a puppy's. "I'm sorry," you mouth at her, hoping she can tell you really do feel like shit for not saying something sooner.

She nods and you know this is her way of saying that it's okay, but you'll talk about it later.

Suddenly, Cass snorts to herself and you look at her confused.

"Do you ever think that when Kurt and Blaine are together they realize they look like a fairy and a hobbit from a scene out of _Lord of the Rings_ or some shit?" That statement is so _Cass. _Both you and Brittany stare at her, and you realize this is her way of saying things can get back to normal.

A fucking fastball.

Finally.

* * *

><p>The one night you truly hate working at the bar is New Year's Eve.<p>

It's ridiculously busy and everyone gets so wasted and you don't get to join in and celebrate because you have to work. It sucks.

So really, it's no wonder you're in a shitty mood as you mix a rum and coke for some guy sitting at the bar with his wife. They get to have a jolly good drunk time and you get to sweat under the bar lights until three in the morning. The idea has you scowling like nobody's business.

"You know, I hear if you keep your face like that long enough it could get stuck like that."

You whip around from the sink to find Quinn leaning across the bar, chin in her hands.

"Oh. Hey Fabray."

"Lopez."

"What are you doing here?"

Quinn smiles at you. "Am I not allowed to go out with my friends on New Year's?"

You shrug. "Not if you're going to come in here and give me extra work, bitch."

"Oh, well I can leave if you want." She smirks at you and you roll your eyes.

You guys have sort of become friends since you started dating Brittany. You even went on this weird double date with her and Puck. Apparently they're serious now. Which is weird as fuck, but whatever.

"Who are you here with?"

She shrugs. "Nobody yet, but the night is young. You wouldn't happen to know where my charming boyfriend is, would you?"

You might throw up. Puck, charming? What alternate universe does _she_ live in? "I think Fuckerman is in the back." Quinn nods and pulls out a stool at the bar. "You want something to drink?"

"Sure, just make me anything, I'm not picky."

You hand her a beer because it's easy and if her friends aren't here yet, you don't want her getting drunk. You don't have time or the patience to deal with any extra drunk people tonight. Then you tell Finn you'll be right back and head to the back, where Puck is doing some inventory.

"Your woman is here," you say dryly and he jumps because he didn't hear you come back.

"Shit, you scared me." He rubs his neck before perking up. "Wait Quinn is here?"

"Yep. She just came in."

He smiles this disgustingly cute grin and it's weird because you've never seen him act like this about a girl. It's gross. "Cool. I'll be back out in a few, I'm almost done here." He pauses. "Wait, shouldn't you be out there?"

You shrug. "I told Finn to man the fort for now. I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"What's the deal with you and Quinn? I thought you were the 'can't-be-tied-down Puckasaurus'?"

He shrugs and continues checking off stuff on his clipboard. "I don't know, she's different."

You raise your eyebrows. "Different how? I mean, yeah, she's hotter than most girls you get in your pants, but she seems kind of… wholesome."

He grunts. "Look, Quinn is hot, but that's not the only reason I'm dating her. She's like, I don't know, real."

"I knew you were making up all those girls from before." You smirk because yeah, you came back here to get the scoop on this relationship, but he's being unusually serious and it's freaking you out. You and Puck do not do serious. You're fucking lesbros.

"Shut up." He picks up a bottle of wine and examines it. "She's been through a lot, and like… experienced life and shit." He puts the bottle down and scratches something on the clipboard. "That's more than me and you can say. We haven't done shit with our lives."

"Right." You roll your eyes. When did he get so annoyingly mature? "So what's so awesome that she's experienced that makes her better than the rest of us."

He sighs and looks at you. "I didn't say she was better, just different."

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know man, like, she traveled to Europe and lived there for a year. She made money doing odd jobs so that she could travel around and take her pictures and become a better photographer and stuff."

"So she's _different_ because she's been to Europe?" What a joke this is. Why did you start this conversation, you should go back to work.

"I don't know, she's mature, okay?" Puck gets this serious look in his eyes. "Did you know she was pregnant when she was sixteen?"

You shake your head. This was news to you. "No. So what, did she just leave her kid at home to come out partying tonight?" _That's_ mature.

He scoffs at you. "No, she gave it up for adoption, dipshit."

"Hmmm. So where's the father?"

He shrugs. "Douche bag isn't in the picture anymore." Puck smirks slightly. "Only because I think she threw all those ones out."

You roll your eyes. He's such an idiot. "Okay." You look at your phone and see you should get back to work before Finncompetent screws something up. You push away from the wall you're leaning on but Puck grabs your wrist.

"Come on, San, you don't only like Brittany because she's hot do you? What happened to 'one-night-stand Santana'?" You roll your eyes. Fine. He has a point.

"Whatever, I'm not judging you," you tell him. "Just wanted to see what the deal was. As long you're like, happy and shit, that's fine with me." You aim for nonchalance, but it kind of sounds like you care. Ugh.

Puck lets go of your wrist and smiles. "We're still lesbros for life, dude."

"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes again, but smile and fist bump him before getting back to work.

* * *

><p>Turns out that Quinn's friends are Brittany, Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel. Well, actually Brittany invited them, but they're all standing by Quinn when you get back. You wave to them and tell Finn he can take his break if he wants, since you were gone longer than you expected to be. You hand off a Bloody Mary to an older woman and walk over to the group.<p>

"Hello, Santana," Kurt smiles at you. "You're looking absolutely stunning in your sexy bar get-up tonight."

"Compliments don't get you free drinks, Ladylips." Blaine chuckles beside his husband and you raise an eyebrow. "Laugh all you want, Pinstripe. You should hear the question Cass asked about the two of you the other day, it was priceless."

"We honestly don't want to know, Santana, but thank you." Kurt holds up his hands in an exaggerated offended motion. You roll your eyes and turn to the others. "Can I get you guys anything, since you insist on making me work? Without giving me tips, I'm guessing." Bitch friends never leave tips. Fucking lame.

"I'll have what Quinn's having, if you don't mind, Santana." Rachel smiles at you and you refrain from rolling your eyes again. Quinn could be right. They might get stuck one day.

"Whatever, Berry." You turn to your girlfriend. "You want anything Britt?"

She winks and points at you seductively, and you fight the way your scowl starts to morph into a smile. "I'll just have what they're having, babe."

You get them a few beers and help out a few more customers before Finn comes back. He smiles at you and you see him eye Rachel as he fills a glass from the tap. She smiles cutely at him and you pray that relationship doesn't amount to anything. He'd look even more like a gigantic freak standing next to her munchkin ass. You sigh and get Quinn another beer, but they've moved to a table so that they could all fit. You place it on the bar for when one of them comes for refills. As you're thinking it, a familiar blonde gracefully leans against the counter.

"Hey gorgeous, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

You raise an eyebrow at Brittany. "Is that supposed to be charming?"

She shrugs cutely as you set another beer in front of her. "Got your attention didn't it?"

You shake your head. "No, I think you'll have to do better than that."

"Mmm." She smiles and leans over the bar to kiss you. "I disagree." You laugh and kiss her again. "Where's Cass tonight?"

You shrug. "She's out with friends from school, I guess."

Brittany tilts her head to the side. "Did she say who?"

You think back. "Some girl named Melanie I think." You nod. "Yeah, and a kid named… ummm. Crater?"

She narrows her eyes and laughs. "That's John Crater, he's in gym with her. All the kids just call him Crater, though. He's a nice kid." She purses her lips in thought. "Don't know any Melanie's though. She might have filled all her gym credit already."

"Hmmm." You nod and wipe down the section of the bar in front of her.

"What time do you get off?"

"Like three."

She pouts and you smile slightly. "Do you have a break before that?"

"Yeah I can take one again soon, probably. Before midnight."

She nods and smiles and your stomach does that clenching thing again. Does she get prettier every day, or…? "Okay. Come see me on your break then."

"Okay."

Brittany leans over the bar and kisses you again before picking up her beers and heading over to her table. "Love you!" She calls over her shoulder.

"Love you, too." Yeah, you definitely lost the battle to keep a scowl on your face. You shake your head and get back to work, again.

* * *

><p>You're exhausted when it's finally time to take another break. It's a little before midnight and you've been going nonstop since like, eight. You leave Puck and Finn behind the bar and head over to your friend's empty table and slide into the booth. You look around and see Quinn and Rachel up at the bar talking to Puck and Finn. Brittany, Kurt, and Blaine are on the small dance floor in the corner. You smile as you watch Brittany laugh when she tries to dance with Blaine, her hair whipping around beautifully. You'd be content to watch her dance all night, but you're distracted by a vibration in your pocket.<p>

**Cass:** U steel the bra?

You scrunch your eyebrows. What does that mean? You're trying to think of either a reply, or the meaning behind the text, when a body crashes into you.

"Hey, baby."

You look up from your phone. "Oh, hey B."

"Who you texting?"

You glance back at your phone. "Cass. I _think_ she wants to know if I'm still working." Brittany laughs and takes the phone from your hands. She presses a few buttons and snaps the phone shut. "What did you say?"

She shrugs. "I told her to learn how to spell and that Brittany loves her, smiley face."

You feel a tiny smile take over your lips. "That's cute, B."

"I know." She wipes under your eye. "Your makeup smudged a little." You lean into her and feel your shoulders relax. How you wish you could take a nap.

"San."

"Hmmm." You murmur, content to just sit in silence until your break is over.

Her hand touches your cheek softly and you sink further into her arm. "I wish you would've told me about your family sooner."

You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut. Do you have to talk about it now? "I know Britt, I'm sorry."

"It's okay to be sad about it you know." Her voice is all soft and it makes you feel vulnerable.

"I'm not sad about it. It's in the past." Your voice is loud next to hers. You take a sip from one of the half empty beers on the table because you need something to do with your hands.

You hear Brittany sigh and her arm feels tighter around your shoulders. "If you weren't sad then you would've told me about it."

You shrug. "I said I was sorry, Britt, I don't know what else I can do."

"I know, San, it's just…" She trails off and you look up at her. Her eyes are distant and clouded under the bar lights. "We need communication and trust in this relationship." You bite your lip and you see bright blue clarity bloom in her eyes. "I love you, Santana. And it's okay for you to open up to me. I'm not going to hurt you. But I want to know when things _are_ hurting you so that I can help make them better."

Brittany looks at you full of determination. "I don't like when you're hurting because it makes me really sad, and even though you don't tell me that something is wrong, your eyes get all dark and sad looking and I can tell. You don't think so, but I can. And it really sucks when I have to hear things about you from Cass and not you, because I _love_ Cass. So, so much. But Cass isn't my girlfriend and you are and girlfriends are supposed to trust each other." She finishes and closes her mouth and your lips curve up slightly.

"Stop smiling, I'm being serious."

You laugh a little. "I know you are, Britt-Britt."

She narrows her eyes. "Then why are you smiling?"

"You're just really, really cute."

She scoffs. "I'm not cute, I'm trying to be forceful. I want you to understand." Brittany bites her lip and furrows her eyebrows.

"I know, babe. And I do." You grab her hand on the tabletop. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and I promise to try to be better at telling you things in the future." You hesitantly squeeze her hand. "I'm just good at dealing with things myself, you know?"

She nods slowly. "I know. But we're in this thing _together_. So you don't have to."

"I'll try."

Brittany smiles softly. "That's all I ask." She leans in and kisses you slowly and purposefully. When she pulls back she winks at you playfully. "Come on, the ball is going to drop any minute now." She slides out of the booth and grabs your hand. You walk back to the bar where people have converged near the several TVs lining the wall. The countdown is only a few minutes away.

Puck is behind the bar pouring champagne into two rows of glasses. "Champagne's on the house guys. Nothing better than free bubbly to ring in the New Year!" You help him get a glass to everyone in the bar that wants one. When you get back, the countdown has begun. Everyone is chanting and single people frantically look around for someone to kiss. You look at Brittany and she smiles brightly at you.

"3…2…1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

You stand on your tip toes and kiss Brittany gently, trying to convey how much she means to you and the hope you have for a new year with her by your side. You think she understands because you're pretty sure you can feel the same meaning behind her lips.

You finally pull away and look around. Everybody is cheering and tipping back their glasses of champagne. Puck and Quinn are laughing as they clink glasses and Kurt and Blaine are smiling lovingly at each other. Rachel and Finn are embraced in a fierce lip lock. Ugh, so gross.

Brittany places her arm around your shoulders and you feel a kiss to the side of your head. "Happy New Year, San."

"Happy New Year, Britt."

* * *

><p>Only two more hours to go, and then you can go home. Thank God. You have the worst headache and you wish people would stop screaming. There will be another New Year to celebrate next year so they could do you a favor and just calm down.<p>

You're pretty sure you're headache couldn't possibly get worse, but you are proven wrong when a familiar guy sits down at the end of the bar and your head starts to throb harder.

"Hey, hot stuff."

You roll your eyes. "Hi Jake. Can I get you something?"

"Tequila would be nice." You set a shot glass in front of him and he runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "There's something else you could give me." He wiggles his eyebrows and you sigh audibly.

"I've told you a million times, Jake, I'm not interested."

"I could make you interested. Come on, Santana, give a guy a chance."

You look him straight in the eye, hopefully for the last time. But you doubt he'll take the hint. "I already gave guys a chance, actually. Not my type."

His eyes widen and he smirks. "Oh right, I forgot. Where's your Blondie?"

You smile and point over your shoulder to where Brittany is talking to Puck. "Right over there actually."

He nods and downs his tequila shot. Then he raises his eyebrows and looks at something behind you. You feel a tap on your shoulder and spin around.

"Tía! Happy New Year!"

Cass engulfs you in a giant hug and you have to pry her arms off of you. "Cass? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she giggles. "Because I like, missed you so much, and I really, like love you, you know?"

You narrow your eyes. "Are you drunk?"

Her eyes grow wide and she frantically shakes her head. "No. No I am not." She shoots you a somber look. "That would be irresponsible. And illegal." She tries to keep a straight face, but it quickly disappears and turns to a fit of giggles. "Get it, like illegal? Because I come in here and sit at the bar all the time, but that's illegal too."

You close your eyes and try not to yell. Getting angry right now would not be the best option. But seriously, you can't deal with this. You have to work and your head fucking hurts.

"Cass, go sit by Britt until I'm done working, okay?" You point down the bar.

She looks around then looks back at you with panicked eyes. "She won't get me in trouble right? Because she's my teacher, and I'm totally wasted. Actually no, I'm just kidding, I'm not. But just say that I _was_, I wouldn't get in trouble with her, right Tía? Right?" She sways a little and you sigh.

"Just go sit down, we'll talk about it later."

She nods. "Okay. Love you!" You watch her to make sure she doesn't fall as she makes her way from behind the bar and over to Brittany. Britt can handle her for now.

You turn back to Jake, who raises his eyebrows at you. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," you reply curtly. "You want another shot?"

"Maybe later."

You nod and move away to give refills to a rowdy group who you really wish would calm down. Fucking New Year.

When you're done with them, you notice Jake has left his stool and has moved over to your group of friends. Most of the other people have left the bar and moved to tables or the dance floor so you walk over and stand by Finn to see what's going on. As you approach, a glass smashes to the floor.

"Fuck you, douche bag!"

You watch in shock as Cass makes a lunge toward Jake and Puck grabs her around the waist from his spot between her and Quinn. "Cass, no!" She struggles against his strong hold.

"What the fuck, Cass?" You look between her red face and Jake's smirk and feel uneasy.

"He was saying stuff about Britt!" She tries to swing at him again, but Puck has a firm grip on her.

Jake laughs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Chill out, babe. Didn't mean to upset you." You scowl, disgusted. He is _not_ trying to hit on your niece, hell no. "If you want, I can take you back to my place and make it up to you."

"Fuck you," snarls Cass and you feel slightly proud. That vanishes when Jake continues to smirk. You hate how everyone is drunk and you have to deal with this shit. Mostly, you just hate him.

"Oh, feisty." His smile gives you the creeps and disgusted anger bubbles in your stomach. "I bet you're an animal in bed, aren't you, hot stuff?"

Something in you snaps and you lunge across the bar at him. Your fist clips his ear and he howls out in pain at the same time that arms clamp your wrists down.

"Let me go, Finn!" You try to elbow him but he's holding you tight. You watch as Puck hands Cass to Brittany and Quinn who struggle to hold her as tightly as Puck did. He grabs Jake by the shirt aggressively.

"You need to leave. And don't even think about stepping foot into my bar again, or I will kick the shit out of your scrawny ass. Understand?"

Jake shakes Puck off. "Whatever man. Keep your dyke under control and we wouldn't have a problem."

Puck's eyes are scary as they stare Jake down. "Get the fuck out. Now." He gives the man a shove toward the door and Jake rolls his eyes, but complies.

You're breathing hard as Finn lets your arms loose. The bar is quiet and everyone is looking toward you, but you ignore it.

"Finn always has to hold you back, huh Santana?" Puck tries to joke with you through his masked anger, and you glare at him. You aren't in the mood for reminiscing.

Fuck this night.

Your eyes find Cass, looking for an explanation, but she is slumped against Brittany, who is attempting to hold her up. Brittany looks up at you sheepishly. "I'll take her home if you want, San."

You nod and pinch the bridge of your nose, frustrated. Brittany puts Cass' arm around her shoulders and waves goodbye before awkwardly disappearing outside the door. The bar has begun to return to its normal loud volume as people get back to their drinks and games of pool. You return to mixing drinks and try to ignore the increased pounding in your head.

* * *

><p>You want to feel relieved when you finally get back to your apartment, but you can only feel dread in anticipation of a drunk Cass. You hang up your jacket and make your way down the hall to her room. You slow down when you hear sobbing on the other side of the closed door.<p>

"It's just so hard, Britt." Cass' coughs and your eyebrows furrow. "I miss my family and I've made so many mistakes. Things I can't take back." There's silence, except for unintelligible murmuring that you assume is Brittany. Then another sob reaches your ears and you cringe slightly. "Santana is like, amazing, you know? And I love her so much. And I love you so much Britt and that guy was saying shit about you and I had to get him, you know? Now she's going to be so pissed at me. I didn't mean for this to happen, I promise."

Brittany's voice floats under the crack in the door and into the hall. "I know, Cass, it's okay."

"He just… he said you were _sexy_, Britt! And that he could help you see _straight_. He's a fucking jerk." Another sob and round of coughing and you feel guilty for listening into this drunken conversation. And mad. You hate that fucking douche bag more than you've hated anything in your life. You turn the doorknob and push the door open. The two of them are sitting on the bed and Cass is leaning into Brittany while Brittany softly pushes hair off her face. Brittany looks over as you open the door.

"Hey."

"Hi. Is she okay?" Cass lets out another sob at the question. Brittany untangles herself from Cass.

"Cass, Santana and I are going to step into the hall really quick. We'll be right back, okay?"

Cass sniffles. "Kay."

Brittany closes the door behind you. "I think she's fine. She's just the weepy drunk, I'm pretty sure."

You sigh and nod. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, Britt. I'm going to fucking kill that guy."

Brittany hugs you close and it surprises you, but you sink into the embrace. "I'm fine, San. I don't care what he said."

"I hate him."

You feel her cheeks move against the top of your head and think she's smiling. "I love you."

"Still hate him."

She laughs and pulls back to stroke your cheek. "You look exhausted babe."

You make a noise in the back of your throat. "Thanks."

"You should go to bed."

You sigh and look at Cass' closed door. "I think I'll go see her first. How about I meet you there and we can get our cuddle on?"

She nods and pecks you on the cheek. "Okay."

Cass is still sitting up when you walk back into her room. She looks up and sways slightly. "I don't feel good." Your eyes widen and you grab her arm and haul her into the bathroom just in time. She leans over the toilet and you have to look away as she empties her stomach. Ew. You hold her hair back until she is done and then you start the shower.

"What are you doing?" Cass' voice is raspy.

"Helping you get clean. Take your clothes off."

She stares at you and then slides her pants down. She grabs the bottom of her shirt, but almost falls over, just barely catching herself against the wall. Sighing, you close the toilet lid and sit her down on it. Then you pull her shirt off and unclasp her bra and help her sit in the bath.

You take the shower head off the wall and spray her with it. She sniffles a little, but seems to have the sobbing under control. You lather some shampoo into her hair and rinse, then do the same thing with the conditioner. Cass just sits there motionless and you think of all the times Rachel did this for you in high school. You really need to thank her for that.

You turn the water off and grab Cass' towel from the rack. She manages to get out by herself and you wrap it around her. You sit her back down on the toilet and start to run the comb through her long hair. The only sound is the dripping of water coming from the shower.

It's nice and steamy in the bathroom, but Cass starts to shiver. "You okay?" You tilt her head up and look at her eyes. They're red and puffy and you push her neatly combed hair behind her ear.

"Yeah." She seems to have sobered up a little, so you help her stand and walk her to her room. You grab a shirt and panties off the floor and help her into the dry clothes before laying her down in bed. You tuck the covers around her and decide you'll talk to her about what happened tomorrow. It's late and she looks so sad and you're not that angry anymore. It can wait. You start to get up from where you're sitting on the edge of Cass' bed but she grabs your wrist.

"I'm sorry," she squeaks out and releases your arm. Her eyes are big and dark and you have a strange urge to cry. Instead, you gently kiss her forehead before making your way out of the room. You close the door behind you and sigh in exhaustion.

Brittany is nearly asleep when you finally slide into bed. As soon as your head hits the pillow, her arm snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. You take in her familiar smell and try to relax. But suddenly the tears that you held back before sneak their way past your eyelids. Your body is shaking and you aren't exactly sure why you're crying, but you can't stop. You roll over and bury your face in Brittany's neck. She pulls you impossibly close and places soft kisses in your hair.

You haven't cried in the longest time, and now it feels like a fucking river is pouring itself out of your eyes and you can't stop it. You're crying for Cass not having parents and for your mom kicking you out. For Brittany's dad not being supportive of her dream and for that douche bag Jake hitting on both of your girls. You're crying for nothing and for everything and you still can't stop.

You're not sure how long you cry. The only thing you're sure of is that Brittany never lets you go and that the sun is already peeking through your curtains when you finally do fall asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Hi guys. So for the second to last section in this, I was inspired by the song All About Us by He Is We (feat Owl City). I'm not usually one to listen to music while writing, but someone on Tumblr showed me this song and I fell in love. So check it out if you're looking for awesome Brittana feels.

* * *

><p>There's a stillness in the air when you wake up that lets you know it's early and you barely slept at all. A glance at the alarm clock shows you that it's only seven. Brittany rolled over in her sleep and you feel cold without her arms around you. Your eyes feel sore and puffy, but you have no desire to go back to sleep, so you quietly get out of bed and throw on sweatpants and a hoodie.<p>

You get the coffee pot going, but feel antsy as you wait. After rummaging through your purse, you find a nearly empty pack of cigarettes and pull one out. Then you slide open the window for the fire escape and sit on an overturned trashcan that you put out here when you first moved in. You light up and try to find some satisfaction in the long drag you take.

The stillness has disappeared since you've stepped outside, replaced by honking horns, sirens, and the other sounds of the city. The quiet is gone, but you feel strangely at peace. You're tranquil and contemplative, like all you needed was a good cry to help you come to terms with how old you're getting and how maturity was seemingly thrust upon you so quickly.

Even your thoughts seem dry and calm.

As you exhale a stream of smoke that turns to a puff of condensation from the cold air, you can't help but feel grown up. Congratulations, it only took you twenty six fucking years, Santana.

You're not bitter or anything. It feels more like a strange acceptance. You feel mature and sad and good all at the same time. Maybe it's the realization that you can remain calm while feeling so many things at once that helps you accept such maturity.

Why are you even thinking this shit?

Maybe it's your subconscious New Year's resolution or something, but it's nice to just sit and think. It's relaxing. You kind of like being by yourself actually.

Of course, as soon as you think that, a leg sticks its way through the fire escape window and a foot finds stability on the ground. The rest of a body follows and a butt sits on the windowsill. A hand wrapped around a mug reaches out toward you.

"I brought you some coffee." Cass says quietly. You warily take the mug, not sure if you're ready to talk yet.

You sit in silence for a while, the two of you just staring at the red-brick building across from you. It's a wonder you don't have to pay extra for that view.

Cass has tucked herself into the windowsill, back against one side and feet pulled up to her chest. Her hair is in a sloppy ponytail and her eyes are red and puffy and there are bags under them. Maybe she was cold too, because she's dressed like you, even sporting your NYU hoodie that you had last seen Brittany pulling over her head and discarding on the floor of your room. Maybe she went in there looking for you. You furrow your eyebrows and take another drag on your cigarette. It's almost gone by now.

"I didn't know you smoke." Cass finally breaks the comfortable silence.

You shrug and drop the cig on the ground before stomping it out. "Just when I'm stressed." You lean back against the wall to your building and close your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

"Why are you up so early?"

You turn your head and look at her. "Why are you?"

Cass continues to look ahead of her, staring at the side of the window she isn't leaning on. "I couldn't sleep." You watch as she rests her chin on her knees and scrunches her toes. You don't even know why you notice that. Her socks barely poke out of the end of her long sweatpants. Actually you're pretty sure those are your pants, too.

"How are you feeling?" You finally ask, because you don't know what else to do. And because you don't want her throwing up all over your nice fire escape.

Cass shrugs. "Shitty."

One side of your lips involuntarily curves up. "You look like it."

"I know." Her voice is all soft and quiet and you feel pressure behind your eyes, but dammit if you're going to cry again. Not going to happen.

"Do you want to talk about last night?" You ask hesitantly, not sure if something was wrong, or if she just overdid it and accidentally pissed you off or…?

She shrugs and a few tears slip down her cheeks. "I don't know. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."

You don't know what to do. Are you supposed to comfort her or reprimand her? Maybe you aren't so grown up. You decide to just sit there and wait for her to do something.

She sniffles quietly. "I don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I'm so lost." Her palms rub at her cheeks and you bite your lip, trying not to let your own tears escape.

"I guess that makes two of us." You take a sip of coffee because you need something to do with your hands and you left your pack of cigs inside.

Cass half snorts and half sobs. "No. You always know what to do."

Your eyebrows crinkle together. Does she really think that? "I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time actually." You can see her disbelieving look even though she's looking away from you. "I thought that I used to know. I was like a zombie, working and fucking my life away." She shoots you a small watery smile. "I was like, on this fucking cloud. Except I didn't feel high or on top of the world or anything like that. It just felt like I was looking down and watching someone else live my life for me." You pause and take another sip of your coffee, but the air is making it cold and it's gross. "I thought that I could work and then drink and then fuck to get through the shitty routine that my life had become."

You shake your head. "I was stupid. I was still that young kid from Ohio who'd been kicked out. I was young and felt unloved and I didn't have a dream or anything to do with my life. And I guess I never really outgrew that depressing person I was. I just stayed on that fucking cloud, while everyone else walked on and lived their life, and I was just floating in place."

"Does it still feel like that?" Cass asks quietly.

You nod. "Sometimes. But it's different now."

"Different how?"

"I'm not on that cloud anymore, but I still feel lost sometimes. Like I'm working at a stupid bar and will always be stuck there." You shrug. "Mostly I feel lost when you freak me out like that." Your throat is thick and you physically will yourself not to cry. "I get worried about you. I know you're a teenager and that you're going to have sex and get drunk and party and do these things. I _know_. But I just want you to be safe."

She finally looks at you and she looks so sad and you remember that face of drowning disappointment from your teenage days. It's like looking in a mirror. "I make you feel lost?" She squeaks out and you want to hug her, but you stay sitting on your stupid, cold trashcan.

"No. I feel lost because I don't know what to do with you sometimes." You look back at the brick building. "It's like… I was on that cloud you know? And I felt really lost and shitty. But then one day, here you were in my apartment and suddenly I was responsible for someone and I crashed back down to reality. And then Britt came into my life and it was like my eyes were opened and I was shown that working and drinking and fucking doesn't make me who I am. It's the choices I make and the way I experience life and those choices that make me the person I am."

You pause and glance at her, but she has her eyes closed and her hands are balled into fists in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "I was on a fucking stupid cloud, getting by in life," you finally continue. "Then the two of you came, and you brought me back. Now I see that I have other reasons to feel lost. Real reasons. Like trying to help you not make dumb decisions and get in trouble and push you to fulfill your own dreams. And not screwing things up with Britt because she's like, the best person I know and it's no wonder my life was so shitty before, because she wasn't in it. You know?"

"That's a lot to process," she breathes out with a small smile.

You shrug. "I'm complicated, get over it."

She chuckles softly and meets your eyes. "I don't mean to make you worried."

"I know." You bite your lip before continuing. "Just… That person, who worries me sometimes, it's not _you_. You're not like that Cass."

She sighs and a puff of air floats out of her mouth. "You don't know me. I'm two different people."

You raise your eyebrows and look at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"There's New York me, who goes to class, even stupid gym with Britt. This me stays home on weekends and watches Jersey Shore with you and goes to the bar and sits in the corner and does homework with Quinn." She shrugs and avoids your eyes. "Then there's the me you don't know. The me from Ohio, who goes out and drinks enough to rival her stupid alcoholic father. That me sleeps around and ditches class to smoke pot behind the bleachers. That me draws on napkins and doodles in notebooks all the time, but still gets Ds in art." Cass absentmindedly runs her hand across her face. "Ohio Cass follows me to New York and takes over my body sometimes. And it's like no matter how hard I try to run from Ohio me, she always catches up when things start to seem okay again."

Your hands are numb from the cold, but you barely notice. You consider what Cass is saying and think you can understand. "Maybe you should just let her catch up and just accept that she is part of who you were, but you can be a different person now if you want to."

Cass looks at you, her eyes clouded. "Do you think it's that easy? To just accept it and change who you are?" She tilts her head to the side and gives you that calculating look. "You ever experience something that you know you'll never forget and the hurt from it will never go away?"

Slowly, you nod. "Yeah."

"How do you move past something like that?"

You think about the hurt you still feel sometimes that comes from your mom disowning you. "You don't. You just accept that it happened, and eventually time helps you understand that it might always hurt a little, but that you'll feel okay in the end. But if you don't accept it, it will just keep festering and never start to heal." She looks at you carefully and nods. You wonder what has had that impact on her. Probably something to do with her dad. "Do you want to talk about it?" You ask again.

"No, not really." She smiles softly at you. "I think I might try to get some sleep actually." She swings her legs inside, but keeps her head out. "You should come in, it's really cold out here."

"I will in a minute."

"Okay." Then she slides back inside and you're left alone, the cold air weighing down on you.

You stare at the brick wall for a few more minutes, just thinking about everything. Then you follow Cass back inside and creep back into your room, intent on cuddling back up to Brittany and getting some more sleep.

* * *

><p>Things go back to normal pretty quickly after that. The days went by and it seemed the New Year's Eve spectacle was just another moment to live and another confusing experience that made Cass an even more mysterious and beautiful person to you.<p>

It's a Tuesday afternoon and you're sitting on the couch with your laptop on the coffee table and a notebook in your lap, furiously scribbling away as you squint through the dirty lenses of your glasses. You'd forgotten to order your stupid contacts. Damn your shitty eyesight.

You're cursing how colleges always find it necessary to make you click through eight billion pages to find out any useful pieces of information when your door opens and you hear the jangling of keys and the soft patter of feet on the floor.

You look up as Brittany flops down on the couch next to you. "Hey babe."

"Hey Britt. How'd you get in here?" Not that you mind that she's here, but you'd rather not anyone just be able to walk into your apartment whenever…

"Cass gave me her key." Brittany props her feet up on the coffee table and kisses your cheek.

"Oh. Yeah, she said something about having to stay after school a few days a week for some art project she's doing." You bite the tip of your pen and glance at her. She's giving you this curious look that you can't place. "What?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. What are you doing?"

You sigh and lift your glasses up a little bit to rub your eyes before setting them back down on your nose. "Looking at colleges for Cass."

"Isn't that something she should be doing?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to help her narrow it down so I'm doing some research." You show her the pad you've been writing down colleges and tuitions on.

"These are so expensive," Brittany comments.

You sigh because you were worried about the same thing. "I know. I went to my bank this morning and set up a savings account for her, though. I realized if we cut out some things from the budget, I can put a third of my salary into it each month and hopefully get some money saved up for her." You tilt your head to the side as something occurs to you. "I'm not sure if her dad had any accounts or anything for her. Maybe I should look into that…" You trail off, thinking.

Brittany smiles softly at you. "That's really awesome of you, San. To do that for her, I mean."

You feel heat on your cheeks, but you shrug. "How else is she going to be able to get the education she deserves?"

Brittany shakes her head absentmindedly and bites her lips before leaning close. "You look really sexy in your glasses."

You shiver as her breath hits your face and your legs clench at the unexpected turn the conversation has taken. "Uh… I forgot to order my stupid contacts."

"You're like… a sexy librarian." She lightly drags her lips up your neck and you feel her smile against your skin. Thank God for your shitty eyesight. "You should wear them on our date."

You almost miss the second statement as you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. "Wait, what date?"

Brittany hums contentedly as you lean into her lips for more contact. "The date we're having on Thursday. You have that night off right?"

"Yeah…" You manage to squeak out as she takes your earlobe between her teeth.

"Good."

"Ummm." Her lips are now attacking your pulse point and as you shift on the couch, the notebook on your lap falls to the floor. "Wait." It's hard to think when her hand is inching under your shirt. How is she having a conversation with you and doing that at the same time? "Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise." She pushes you down completely and straddles you.

"Is this a special occasion or something?" Her fingers start working on the belt of your jeans. Guess you're not looking at college stuff anymore…

"Can't I just take my girl out and woo her? Is that a crime or something?"

Blonde hair cascades around your face and you scrunch your eyebrows. "Woo me?"

She sighs, exasperated. "Yes, Santana. Can I not woo you?"

"Sorry, woo is just such an awkward word."

Blue eyes flash and her hands continue pushing their way up your shirt. "Whatever. I'm still going to do it."

"But… why?"

"You talk too much."

"Sorry," you grunt out as one hand slides above the waistband of your underwear and the other traces between your cleavage.

"As this is my only lesbian relationship, I have never had the opportunity to _woo_ someone." Brittany's lips are on your neck again. "And since I love you _so very much_, I will be damned if I don't get to woo you once in a while. So just go with it or I will get up right now, and you will be left unsatisfied."

You giggle slightly. "That's evil."

"Shut up."

"Okay, sorry, sorry." Your hands land on her stomach as her shirt is discarded on the ground somewhere. "Your abs are so hot, Britt-Britt."

"I know." She kisses you on the lips slowly and heat rushes all the way to your toes.

"What should I wear?" You ask when she pulls away to take your shirt off.

"That one red dress. Now shut up."

"You already picked out what I should wear? Wait what are you going to wear?"

"Right now, nothing." Brittany unclasps her bra and you watch in amazement as it falls to the floor and all thoughts of the date leave your mind.

"Okay, that sounds nice."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Now shut up."

* * *

><p>"You look <em>muy caliente<em>, Tía."

You look at your reflection in the mirror and spin around to look at your butt. "You think so?"

"Totally."

"Well, Britt did tell me to wear this…"

"You're whipped, you know that right." Cass leans against the doorframe to your bedroom and smirks at you.

You shrug and lean in close to the mirror to touch up your makeup. "Yeah."

"Britt should just move in with us, she's always here anyway."

You almost stab yourself with the mascara wand. "Seriously?" You look at her and she shrugs.

"Yeah, why not?"

You sigh unsure. Has it been long enough for that? "When did you two get so close anyway?" You change the subject.

"Uh… I don't know. It just happened I guess." Cass sounds unsure and you raise your eyebrows at her. "Don't give me that look, Tía."

"Whatever." You turn back to the mirror and finish doing your makeup.

"So where are you going?"

"I don't know, Britt wouldn't tell me." You take one last look in the mirror before making your way to the bed and slipping on your black high heels. "She just told me to wear this and look pretty."

Cass laughs. "She's got you on a long leash, I see."

You snort. "Must you always harass me when I'm getting ready to go out?"

"Yep." She smirks at you and you push past her and into the kitchen to make sure you have everything you need in your purse.

"Whatever." You glance back at her to see that she's followed you into the kitchen. "Promise to be good when I'm gone, okay?"

She huffs. "I'm not five."

You give her a stern look as you put on your jacket. "No boys. No alcohol. Just watch TV or do your homework or something. Please?" You add as an afterthought.

Cass throws her hands in the air. "Where is the trust in this relationship? I trust you to go out and not get your girlfriend pregnant. Can you not trust me?"

There's a knock on the door and you grab your purse. "I trust you. I'm just reminding you." You open the door but continue to look behind you at Cass. "Why don't you draw or something?"

She sighs. "Okay, okay. Have fun."

"Will do. Bye."

You're swinging the door shut when her last shout hits your ears. "But not too much fun!"

You shake your head and finally look up at Brittany. "Hi."

"Hey." She smiles at you and you are once again reminded that you're dating the most gorgeous girl to have ever existed. "Ready?"

She offers her arm and you take it. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough."

You roll your eyes, but smile. "Why does everyone always think it's cute and romantic to surprise their dates by not telling them where they're going?"

"Because it is."

Oh. Right.

Once outside, Brittany hails a cab and helps you in. She tells the driver a location you're unsure of, so you just sit back and watch as lights and cars flash by outside. Brittany takes your hand and you lean into her side.

"You look beautiful tonight," she whispers into your ear.

"So do you."

She places a kiss to the side of your head and you bask in the warmth that fills you to the core. Eventually the driver pulls up to the curb and Brittany helps you out of the cab. You see you're in front of a nice restaurant. You follow her into the place and look around. It's really fancy.

You follow the hostess to your table and Brittany helps you out of your jacket and pulls out your chair, which you find to be extremely unnecessary, but if she really wants to _woo_ you… then whatever. You guess it's kind of nice.

There's a candle in the middle of all the tables and the lights are low. Brittany orders a bottle of wine to share and you try to decide what to eat. "All of this is super expensive, Britt."

She gives you a look. "Santana, I'm only going to say this once tonight so listen carefully. We're on a date. I took you to a nice restaurant and I'm going to pay and you're going to have a great time and you aren't going to complain. Understand?"

You quirk an eyebrow. "Oh is that so?"

"Yes." The waiter brings your wine and Brittany taps your glass with hers after thanking the waiter.

"I like when you're demanding." You shoot her a wink and smile as you take a sip from your glass.

She giggles cutely and your heart melts a little. "Good because I'm in charge tonight, so you're just going to have to deal with it."

"I guess I could do that." You smile and she places her hand on top of yours on the table.

Dinner passes by like a carefree breeze. The food is delicious and Brittany pays and you enjoy yourself more than you thought was possible. It feels like a little bubble of happiness is inflating inside your chest as you lean against Brittany on the cab ride home. She keeps leaving light touches on your skin and her hands are always on some part of your body. Lingering kisses are left in your hair and sweet whispers reach your ears.

When you get back to your apartment, Brittany smiles at you and leads you to the middle of the living room, between the TV and the couch. It looks like Cass is already sleeping.

"Don't move," she says. "The night isn't over yet." She lets go of your hands and moves to the stereo, where she fusses with a few buttons and puts in her own cd. A soft song you've never heard before comes out of the speakers and you look at her questioningly.

She just smiles and takes your hands in hers, placing them around her neck. Her arms encircle your waist and she starts to sway to the music.

You giggle quietly. "Slow dancing? You're cheesy tonight, baby."

She hums contentedly and spins you around. "Dancing is how I express my emotions. I just want you to feel how much I love you."

Your eyes meet bright blue and you can't help but smile. "I do."

"Mhmmm." She brings your body closer to hers and presses your chests together. You feel feather light in her arms as the music softly flows through the room. It's a pretty song and you lean your face into Brittany's neck and breathe in slowly, letting the comforting atmosphere fill you up.

"This is nice," you whisper finally. You look up to see her eyes are shining beautifully. Your breath catches in your throat and you gently press your lips to hers. Your eyes flutter closed and you revel in how soft Brittany feels as your lips slide together.

Everything disappears and you know it wouldn't matter if you were alone or if there was a room full of people watching, all you see and feel is Brittany. Everything that she is fills you up and you take in the moment, feeling safe and brave in her arms.

Suddenly, her lips and hands leave your body, but the next thing you know, she's hoisting you in her arms like you weigh nothing. Your eyes are wide in surprise but they soften into a smile as she walks to the stereo and shuts it off before making her way to your bedroom.

"Now you're carrying me?"

"I said you're going to enjoy it and not complain, how hard is that to understand?" Brittany looks down at you with fake annoyance. She gently sets you on the edge of your bed once she's shut the door. Carefully slipping off your heels, she kisses your knees and helps you stand up. She turns you around and unzips your dress, letting is slide off your body. Your underwear is quick to follow. Then she slowly picks you up again and lies you down on your pillow.

After taking off her clothes, she crawls up your body, placing kisses along the way. Goosebumps spread over your skin as her lips touch your stomach, your chest, your collarbone, and finally your lips. Her body gently rests on top of you and there's a burning where your skin touches hers.

You roll over slightly so both of you are lying on the pillow, legs entangled and bodies touching. You breathe in deeply and your lips are light and gentle as they leave Brittany's to explore every inch of her body. It's so beautiful and you realize it must be cherished and not taken for granted. Everything about her is unimaginably perfect.

Her breathing increases in your ears as you give proper attention to her neck. Hands tug you closer, splayed across your back. Your own hands move to Brittany's chest and you feel her short gasp hit your cheek.

You lean in so your noses are touching and drag one of your hands down Brittany's stomach. It clenches as your fingers brush it and move down down down. God. She's so wet. You carefully slide a finger through her folds and place a soft kiss on her lips. Your thumb circles her clit and she lets out a soft moan.

Suddenly you _need_ to see her. You lean your head back slightly and look and look and look. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are slightly parted. Her eyes zero in on yours and even through their slight haziness, they burn clear and blue. You smile softly and carefully enter her with one finger. She gasps out and her hips thrust into yours. You pump in and out, reveling in the small sounds coming from her mouth before entering another finger.

You feel her stomach clenching against yours and pick up your rhythm. Her eyes never leave yours; they stare into yours and beyond them. You hit a spot and curl your fingers as her thighs shudder. Finally thin eyelids close like veils over that miraculous blue and a last small gasp leaves her mouth before her body stills. You look at her in awe, never having seen anything or anyone so beautiful. You let her down slowly and smile when her eyes flutter back open to meet yours.

"I love you," she breathes out and lazily smiles.

"Move in with us." The statement escapes your lips as Cass' words from earlier float in your ears. You want to do this every night to her, as long as you can see how beautiful she is. You want to wake up and feel her next to you as she kisses you goodbye when her and Cass leave for school. You want her to come home from work and sit down and eat a dinner that you made together. You want it more than anything.

Brittany's eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty. "What?"

"Move in with us." You kiss her gently. "With me."

"Are you sure? What about Cass?" She licks her lips, still breathing slightly harder than normal.

You smile. "It was her idea actually."

"I…" She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before her face breaks out in a wide smile. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes." Brittany continues to smile and it makes you smile harder. "Definitely. Oh my God, yes." She rolls on top of you, pinning you to the bed, laughing. "Mike will be so happy I'm finally moving out."

You laugh along with her as she positively beams down at you. Your heart flutters happily in your chest. "I love you."

"I love you too. Santana, I love you so much. I'm like, filled with happy unicorn rainbow love." You can't stop laughing as she laughs excitedly. Then she starts placing kisses along your jaw and the laughter peels off as your breathing picks up.

The rest of the night you learn that dancing isn't the only way Brittany shows you she loves you.

* * *

><p>Sweat drips down your face and you're quick to wipe it away as you set down another box. Looking around the room, you see it's filled with cardboard boxes, all labeled with Brittany's loopy handwriting.<p>

"I think… that's the…last one." Cass pants and drops a box next to you.

"Finally." You sigh and sink into the couch. Cass slumps down next to you with a huff. "Where's Britt?"

"She had to pee."

"Oh."

"I think it's because she wanted you to carry that last heavy one so she ran away."

You laugh and roll your eyes because, well, of course. A second later, Brittany lands on your lap and her hands come around your neck. She kisses you on the cheek before scrunching her nose. "You're all sweaty, S. Gross."

"That's because you made me carry all the heavy boxes!" You tickle her sides and she squirms and grabs your hands.

"Stop!" One of your hands works its way free and pokes her side again. "San, cut it out!" Brittany laughs and leans away from your hand.

"What was that B? I didn't hear you?" You continue to dig your fingers into her skin and she falls off your lap onto the ground. Grinning, you slide down on top of her, basking in the amazing feeling of knowing Brittany's moved in now. Your home is her home.

"Oh my God, you guys are so lame." Cass tries to slip away into her room, but you grab her foot. She wobbles slightly and glares down at you. "Not happening. Let go."

Laughing, Brittany grabs her other leg and tugs and Cass falls next to you with a loud grunt. She rolls over and smacks Brittany on the arm. "Come on, Cass, loosen up," Brittany says playfully.

"Yeah, Cass, loosen up."

"Mature, Tía. Really?" She huffs and you dig your heel into her side. She lets out a noise that's half laugh and half yelp and it has you giggling uncontrollably.

Brittany squirms beneath you and you start tickling her again. "San! You're supposed to get Cass, not me!" She laughs and her face starts to turn red. "Stop!"

"No." You're giddy and are laughing too hard to care that you feel like a little kid.

"Shit, stop, stop." Brittany pants out. "If you don't stop, I'll withhold sex for like, a week."

You grin in triumph. "Liar, there's no way. You'd cave after like, two days."

Cass makes a choking sound beside you and you laugh evilly, before using one hand to poke her again. "Stop, or I will ends you! Not cool, Santana."

"What, Cass, too grumpy for terms of endearment?"

"I hate you," she laughs out as she wiggles away from your fingers. There's a loud knock on the door and you lunge for her as she pushes herself off the ground. "Stop! There's someone at the door, you bitch." She laughs again and hops over you and Brittany on the ground.

You turn your attention back to Brittany who pushes up slightly and kisses you. "I'm really happy, San."

You smile hugely. "Me too."

An unintelligible exclamation comes from the hallway and you look at Brittany questioningly, but she shrugs. You push yourself up and poke your head around the corner. What you see makes your mouth drop open in shock.

Cass is standing in front of the open front door, arms crossed and feet squarely planted on the floor, glaring at the person standing in the doorway.

"_Mom_?"

It feels like all the breath rushes out of your lungs as Sonya Lopez looks up and meets your eyes. She looks almost the same, just older. She has the beginning lines of wrinkles around her mouth and eyes and a few strands of her dark hair are slightly graying. She looks as intimidating as you remember, even though you stand a few inches taller.

Brittany steps around you and stares in confusion at the woman. You see your mom look her up and down. "Hello, Santana. Who's this?" All traces of your happiness from moments before have disappeared.

You look between her and Brittany, shocked. "Umm… this is Brittany? Mom, what are you doing here?"

Your mom glances at Brittany warily and rolls her eyes. "I see you stand by your ridiculous decision to be with women, Santana." She looks back at you. "I'm here to see my granddaughter."

You look at Cass, but she is shooting your mom a death glare. "How did you know where I live?"

"Roberto has your address in case he wants to contact Cass." Sonya says calmly and with certainty.

Cass' arms drop to her sides. "You've seen my dad?"

Sonya nods. "Yes. And he informed me that you were living here, and I found that to be completely outrageous." Her lips thin. "You can't live here, Cass."

Cass' arms cross again. "Why the fuck not?"

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, young lady." You watch as your mother plants her hands on her hips. "This isn't a healthy environment for you."

Cass mirrors her stance. "I like it here."

Your mother glances at you. "There is a reason you didn't know about Santana before this whole ordeal, Cass."

"There's nothing wrong with Santana," Cass yells. "And you didn't even want me in the first place!"

Sonya sighs and pinches her nose. "I admit I was a little upset about the decisions you had been making. But past sins can be forgiven and I cannot let you come here and continue to make bad choices."

Cass opens and closes her mouth, bewildered. You move to stand behind her and place your hands on her shoulders. You feel Brittany shrink into the background slightly. "What is she talking about, Cass?"

Your mother gives Cass a hard look. "You didn't tell her? Or does she not care, the same way she doesn't care that it is against God's plan to live her chosen lifestyle?"

Cass leans back into you. "It doesn't matter, abuela, it's in the past and I can't undo it, so I'm trying to move on." She glares at the older woman. "You should too."

Sonya shakes her head. "I pray for you every day." She looks up at you with pursed lips before peering back down at Cass. "You need to come home."

You feel Cass stiffen. "I'm not leaving here."

Anger flashes in Sonya's brown eyes. "Cassandra Isabella Velasquez! You will do as I say!" She makes a grab for Cass' arm, but you step in between them.

"Hold up." You glare at your mom and cross your arms. "You can't just come into my home after all these years and make demands. I signed the papers and you didn't and if she wants to stay here, she can stay here."

"Roberto specifically chose me to be Cass' caretaker. I may have misjudged the situation, but I am here to claim the responsibility now."

"Well that's not how it works." You feel anger pulsing in your blood. What the fuck is happening right now?

Sonya shifts her eyes between your defiant stance and Cass behind you. "Fine. My lawyer will be in contact with you."

Lawyer? Is she taking you to court? What the fuck? Your scowl increases. "Get out." She stares at you for a minute. "Now!"

Sonya Lopez glares around the room one final time before making her way into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Heyyy readers! I apologize that it has taken me longer to update than normal. This chapter was really important to me. I wanted it a certain way, yet was having trouble portraying Santana's inner turmoil without it seeming too choppy. I hope it is satisfactory for you guys. Thanks to all who reviewed, it means more than you can imagine. I hope you all enjoy this chapter (it's decently angsty). And of course, Happy Birthday to our Queen and Captain, the stunning and flawless Naya Rivera!

* * *

><p>Nobody talks about what happened. It's been two weeks and not one word has been spoken concerning what happened when your mom unexpectedly knocked on your door and demanded that Cass leave New York.<p>

As soon as the door slammed shut behind Sonya Lopez, Cass swiftly walked to her room and shut the door softly behind her. You stared after her, unsure what to do, before glancing at Brittany, who was just looking at you in shock. Feeling incredibly bewildered and lost, you decided to just make dinner and figure out what the deal was later.

Except, 'later' still hasn't arrived yet. As far as anyone is concerned, the incident didn't even happen.

The only evidence that it did is the awful feeling of apprehension that has found a home in the pit of your stomach.

You keep trying to find an opportunity to bring it up with Cass, but you barely see her. She seems to be staying later and later at school to work on her art project and when she is home, she mostly stays in her room. You aren't sure if you should go in there… maybe she needs to be alone? Whatever is happening, it's making you feel extremely lost.

One night, you finally decide enough is enough and knock on her door. "Cass?" There's no answer, so you open the door softly. She's lying in bed, tucked into the covers tightly. You might think she was sleeping, but you can see her eyes blink as she stares up at the ceiling. They flicker over to you when you open the door, but otherwise, she doesn't acknowledge your presence.

"Dinner is ready." You look around at her messy room in confusion. She's not a clean freak, but her room is usually pretty tidy. The clothes are at least typically in the hamper and not scattered around on the floor.

"I'm not hungry." Her voice is dry and dull. It sounds like she has a cold.

Your lips twist in concern. "You have to eat something." She doesn't say anything, so you move closer and perch on the end of her bed. "Are you feeling okay?" You feel her forehead, but it's not hot or anything.

"Yeah, I'm just tired."

You watch as she shuffles further into the covers. "Did you get enough sleep last night?" She hasn't come to the bar since the incident, so you know that's not the problem.

She sighs. "I kept waking up and stuff."

You look at the evidence of exhaustion sketched onto her young face and feel your eyes soften. "Okay. Well how about I leave you a plate and Britt can heat it up for you later while I'm at work."

After a moment, Cass nods slightly. "Kay."

You feel her head one last time, just to be on the safe side, before standing up. You look at her again as you walk out, but she has snuggled too deep into her blankets for you to see anything, so you just shut the door softly.

Brittany is already at the table when you make your way into the kitchen and sit down. "Where's Cass?"

"She's not coming," you tell her. "She's really tired, I think she might be getting sick."

Brittany nods. "She was being extra lazy in class today."

You cut into the chicken Brittany made and sigh. "I think she's spending too much time on that art project. Maybe she's stressed."

"Yeah. Maybe…" Brittany trails off and her forehead scrunches. You feel her legs jiggling erratically under the table.

"Do you not think so?" You ask slowly, because you feel like she didn't think that was the case.

"No, that could be true."

"Okay…" You have this weird feeling in your stomach, like she wants to say something, but can't bring herself to do so.

She looks up at you. "Have you heard anything else from your mom?"

You shake your head. "No. I'm hoping she just went back home or something…" You feel like it's not the end of that situation, but you can wish, can't you?

Except… it's making you uneasy. Something should have happened by now and you're getting tired of having to keep your guard up.

Brittany nods and you find yourself in silence for a few minutes.

"So…" Brittany eventually says. "I have to tell you something."

You look up, apprehensive. That's not usually a great conversation starter. "Okay…"

She smiles at you across the table. "I talked to Mike today. And he said that the director of the last show he choreographed, Jesse St. James, has been offered the opportunity to revive Funny Girl on Broadway. Apparently, Jesse asked Mike to the do choreography for him."

"That's cool, Britt." You smile distractedly, happy for her friend, but also confused as to why she had to start with that ominous sentence…

She nods. "Yeah. Well, it would be. But the thing is, Mike's girlfriend, Tina, already booked them a two month vacation to Europe around the same time that he would need to start for the show."

"Oh, that sucks. At least they get to go to Europe."

"Totally," Brittany agrees. "Anyway, Mike was able to pull some strings with Jesse and well… now the job is mine."

Your eyes widen and you stare at Brittany in shock. She's biting her lip, holding back a smile. "Wait, you're going to choreograph a Broadway show?" You can't believe it.

"Well, I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first, but essentially… yeah." Brittany grins and your heart flutters happily.

"Oh my God! Babe that's… that's _amazing_!" You smile hugely.

Brittany's cheeks turn red and she shrugs modestly. "So it's okay with you?"

You furrow your eyebrows. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

She bites her lip. "Well, I'll have to work late probably so there will be a lot of nights I don't catch you before you go to the bar. And Cass will be here alone more and… I don't know. I want you to be okay with this, it's important to me."

You reach for her hand across the table. "Oh my God, Britt. This is your dream. And I am _so_ proud of you. How could I say no to this opportunity? Cass will be fine, I'm sure, and I'll miss you, but as long as I get to come home to you, then I'm good." You smile gently at her.

Brittany nods and squeezes your hand. "God, I love you."

You giggle and flash a smirk. "It's because I'm awesome."

"Shut up." She laughs and shakes her head.

"So when do you start?"

"The week after next."

You hum in acknowledgement before something occurs to you. "Wait, what about teaching?"

She sighs and shrugs. "Well, it's going to be difficult, but Jesse has assured me that he's starting the casting and stuff early enough that there will be more than enough time before the show opens for me to choreograph and teach the dancers the routines in only the afternoon and on the weekend." Brittany glances down at her plate. "I know I said the teaching thing would be temporary, but now that this has come up… I really can't bring myself to quit." She looks up at you sheepishly. "I didn't realize how much I like playing dodgeball with kids all day."

You feel yourself melt at Brittany's adorableness. "That's sweet, Britt."

Red tinges Brittany's cheeks again. "It's just the truth."

You smile at her. "I love you."

She smirks. "It's because I'm awesome."

You roll your eyes. "Shut up."

* * *

><p>The letter comes two weeks later.<p>

Brittany has just started her work for the show and you feel lonely every afternoon with Cass at school for her art project and Brittany gone. You were never this bored before the two of them entered your life, but now it seems you become desperately lame when they aren't here.

It was an easy routine to fall into really, with their absence. Every morning you'd work out and get lunch, then come back to the apartment and read the mail while you watched TV and paid bills.

So it's one seemingly normal afternoon, when you're sitting on the couch, flipping through the mail, that you are forced to realize that maybe your boredom wasn't the worst that could happen.

The letter is tucked between the electricity bill and the new issue of Wired (yes, you read that magazine; you can be nerdy if you want sometimes). The envelope is a mix between yellow and white, and it feels heavy in your hands, as if you know the meaning inside it weighs much more than the actual letter. You open it slowly, unsure of the contents.

The thick paper feels stiff in your fingers as you unfold it and smooth it out on your lap.

_From the desk of Sue Sylvester:_

_Ms. Santana Lopez-_

_This is a notice of a summons to court, filed by Mrs. Sonya Lopez, on January 24, 2012._

_The law suit in question is on behalf of a Ms. Cassandra Velasquez, and is concerning the rights of custody of Ms. Velasquez. It will outline the custodial boundaries and address the issue of whether her current guardian, Ms. Santana Lopez, is fit to continue said role as guardian or if custodial rights concerning Ms. Velasquez need to be amended._

_The date of court attendance is yet to be determined._

_Please have you or a lawyer contact Ms. Sylvester to determine a date and if you have any questions. Contact information is attached._

_With regards,_

_Sue Sylvester, Personal Attorney, Ohio_

You know your heart is beating faster than normal, but you're certain it must have stopped. You can barely breathe as your grip around the letter slackens and it flutters to your lap. What the hell?

How did this happen?

You bury your head in your hands and try to get your breathing under control. But suddenly the feeling of apprehension that had taken root in your stomach has turned to something much more present.

Fear.

* * *

><p>You can't sleep. You can barely eat. You don't know how you're even functioning.<p>

For three weeks, phrases like _custodial rights_ and _unfit guardian_ have been tumbling around in your head, offering you no relief from the situation. They follow you through the day, always lying in the back of your mind. As you lie in bed at night, they scream at you, infecting the silence around you that is only otherwise punctured by Brittany's heavy breathing as she sleeps peacefully. You only wish you could drift off like her.

You had contacted your lawyer and the court date was set. You would fly to Ohio next week with Cass.

That was another thing that was causing you to lose sleep. Something was wrong with Cass. If you thought that you weren't eating and sleeping enough, you don't know what to say about her. She never comes out of her room anymore, yet exhaustion is plainly written on her face every time you see her. You have no idea what to do. You encourage her to come eat with you every night, but she barely even acknowledges you. You always leave for work with a reminder to both her and Brittany that she needs to eat, but when you return home, Brittany always tells you she hasn't.

You don't know what to do. You're worried about her, but don't want to force her to do anything. You're not sure if this is teenage angst or something else, and you feel like the high school Santana Lopez wouldn't have been so passive about this, but you're really lost and confused now. Maybe you are an unfit guardian.

It was Brittany who planted the first seeds of worry in your mind. You were sitting at dinner, on one of Brittany's rare nights off now, when she planted the thought.

"I think she's depressed."

Depressed. Depressing. Depression.

Everything about this situation was depressing. But was Cass depressed?

"Why do you say that?"

But now that you had asked, it seemed so… right.

"She sleeps all the time. She never comes out of her room. I can't get her to eat anything. I found her skipping class today."

You meet Brittany's worried eyes. "Your class?"

Brittany shakes her head. "No. She was in mine, but I found her on my planning period."

"What was she doing?"

She shrugs. "Just sitting there." Brittany sighs. "I'm worried about her, Santana. She's not all there right now."

You raise your eyebrows. "Like crazy?"

"What? No. Like… not… present. Like vacant. She's somewhere else."

"Well, what do we do?"

Brittany runs a hand over her face and stands up to clear her plate. "I don't know. I tried talking to her when I found her, but she just said she wasn't feeling too great."

"Oh." You furrow your eyebrows and sink lower in your seat in confusion.

"I don't know, San. You need to do something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something."

* * *

><p>You've never thought of the bar as a place of calm or tranquility, but lately you are surprisingly at peace here. The joyful chatter, the clunk of glasses on tables, the easy back and forth motion as you wipe down the bar. It's familiar. It's routine. It's keeping you from losing it.<p>

You guess the company isn't so bad, either.

"Don't think too hard, San, your brain might implode."

You look up from where you'd been wiping the same spot for far too long. "Fabray. Didn't think I'd see you here tonight. Puck isn't working."

Quinn shrugs as she sits on a bar stool. "Yeah, I know. I just wanted to come chill."

You nod. "You want something strong or are we just taking it slow?"

"How about a beer?"

You grab a chilled glass and fill it from the tap. "I hope you're going to tip me tonight," you say, only half joking.

"We'll see." She smiles at you and takes a sip from her glass, glancing around as she does so. "You're not very busy tonight."

"Nothing gets past you, Q." Seriously. There's like, five people in the bar in total.

She snorts. "So, do you want to talk about it?"

You look at her confused. "Talk about what?"

She shrugs. "Whatever it is you need to talk about."

You narrow your eyes at her. "Did Britt put you up to this?"

"Nope. I wasn't aware there was something to be put up to." She smirks. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No. Everything's fine with Britt. If it wasn't, you would probably know, you're her best friend."

Quinn shoots you a curious look. "I guess, but she could talk to Mike about it. They've been friends longer." Her eyes get all soft. "We're friends too, you know."

You look around, hoping someone needs your help or wants to pay, but no such luck. You sigh. "Yeah, I guess."

She smirks again. "Even if you were a bitch to me the first time we met."

You raise your eyebrows. "I'm a bitch to everyone."

"Not Britt." You shrug, there's no use denying it. Quinn takes another sip of her beer and you pull the stool that's behind the bar over to where she's sitting and plop down on it, resting your elbows on the counter.

"Have you ever… been depressed?" You ask after a few moments.

Her hazel eyes pierce into yours, and you falter a little under the questioning gaze. Maybe you shouldn't be having this conversation.

After a few seconds, she shrugs. "Yeah."

"When?" You ask hesitantly, not sure if she wants to talk about it.

"When I was a teenager. Sixteen, seventeen." She takes another sip and eyes you over her glass. "You depressed, S?"

You shake your head. "No, just stressed, but I'm okay." She nods and looks around, observing the other customers.

You fidget with your hands, trying to figure out how to approach this. Subtlety would probably be your best option. "Was it because of your baby?" Her eyes widen in surprise. Okay, maybe that wasn't so subtle, nice one Lopez. "I mean… sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Her fingers tap a pattern on the bar. "No… it's just… sorry, you caught me off guard." She looks at you. "Yeah, I had a hard time after I had the baby."

You nod. "How did you get out of it, Q? How'd you make it stop?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know. Gradually, I guess. I didn't really notice it stopping." Her finger runs around the rim of her glass. "Everything was so much. I felt really overwhelmed with confusion and loss and hurt. I knew I couldn't keep her, I was so young. But when she was born, I…" She trails off and sighs. "She was beautiful. And so tiny. I loved her and I didn't even know her." Her eyes are distant.

You don't really know what to say. You feel kind of stupid for bringing it up now. "I'm sorry, Q."

She nods and looks at you. "It's in the past now. I've had a lot of time to accept it, and I'm okay." She purses her lips in thought. "It was photography," she says finally.

You scrunch your eyebrows. "What?"

"That's how I got over it." She nods determinedly. "It was my senior year, and I took a photography class. I thought it would just be an easy elective, enough to get an A without having to work hard." She smiles lightly and you chuckle. You remember those days. "But I picked up the camera and just started snapping pictures. Things looked different through the lens."

She smiles wistfully. "I was hurting, and it was a welcome distraction. To be able to look at the world through different eyes and capture sadness and beauty without having to think about the reasons why they were sad or beautiful. Gradually, I think I just drifted back to normal. I don't remember a real defining moment or anything where I just realized I wasn't depressed anymore. It kind of just happened."

You nod. "That's pretty cool." You watch as she plays with a strand of blonde hair that falls around her shoulders. "Cass showed me a drawing she did that was based on one of your pictures."

Quinn smiles and shakes her head. "I still can't believe she knew who I was. I'm not well-known at all." She bites her lip and you can't help but notice how beautiful she is. Not like Brittany, who's playful personality lights up her features and causes her beauty to shine to the world. Quinn has this deep elegance about her. You can see why Puck likes her. "Cass is a good kid, San."

"I know." You brow wrinkles in worry about her again.

"When do you have to go to Ohio for that hearing thing?"

"Next week."

Quinn nods. "Are you worried that you'll lose custody?"

You rest your chin on your hand. "Yeah, a little." You bite your lip. "I want what is best for her. And I'm not sure that person is me. I always have to work late and I have no idea how to take care of a teenager."

Quinn gives you a curious look. "You love her, though."

You shrug and your voice sounds tiny when you answer. "Yeah."

"Then you're the best thing for her, Santana. She needs someone who cares about her. And she loves you." Quinn sounds so sure.

"I guess." You want to tell her how it will hurt like hell if she's taken from you. You want to explain that now that Cass is in your life, now that you have family, you can't bear to lose her. But you don't say anything, because you feel selfish. Maybe your mom can provide things for her that you can't. All these feelings bubble up inside you and wish you were back home, lying in bed with Brittany, where you feel safe and brave.

Quinn finishes her drink, but declines your offer for another one. "I should probably go." She puts her jacket on and fishes out her wallet.

"It's on the house, Q."

"But what about your tip?" She smiles mischievously.

You roll your eyes. "My friends don't pay here, loser."

She smirks. "I knew we were friends."

"Yeah, whatever." You try to hide your smile, but you know it's peeking through a little.

She smiles back at you knowingly. "Give me a call sometime. We should hang outside the dim lights of this shit hole."

You nod. "Okay."

"Tell Cass and Britt I say hi." You nod and she turns to leave before looking back. "Oh. And don't think that you don't deserve Cass in your life. You're better for her than a lot of people out there, San." She smiles at you and leaves, and you're left wondering how Quinn Fabray can understand your insecurities better than you can.

Stupid bitch.

* * *

><p>The apartment is dark when you get home. It's almost three, so it doesn't really surprise you. Brittany hardly ever waits up past one for you. She's always so exhausted. You kind of wish your job had normal daytime hours. Well, it does, but other people work those, because you never had the need to. Maybe you should change shifts. You shake that thought off though. That'd be too weird after the amount of time you'd been working the night shift.<p>

You sigh and hang up your jacket. Movement down the hall catches your eye. You don't see anything, but there's a faint glow of light reflecting off the wall. You walk down the hall and peer into the kitchen. It's dark except for the soft light spilling out of the open fridge and washing over the kitchen floor. A small figure is silhouetted against the light.

"Cass?"

Your eyes adjust and you see her looking at you. "Oh. Hey Tía."

"What are you doing?"

She shrugs. "I got hungry." She shuts the fridge and turns to look at you.

You shift awkwardly. "At three in the morning?"

"I guess."

You look at her curiously. Her face looks younger in the dark. You can't see the bags under her eyes or her pale cheeks. "You want me to make you something?"

"No. I think I'll just go back to bed."

"I thought you were hungry."

Cass runs a hand through her hair and stuffs her hands in the pocket of your NYU hoodie. You wonder if she ever takes that thing off. "I don't know." She looks at her feet and you suddenly have a need to make sure she's okay. You feel like you haven't had a real conversation with her in a month.

"Sit down." Your voice sounds rushed and urgent. Too sharp. Her head snaps up to look at you and you soften your voice. "I'll make you some pancakes."

"You don't have to."

"Sit down." You fish the pan out from the cupboard and see her hesitantly sit at the table. You flick the light above the stove on, but leave the others off so that the room is only slightly washed out in light. It's a little hard to see, but you can definitely handle it. You don't want the harsh lights to make Cass uncomfortable. She's been so distant lately.

You mix the recipe and wait for the pan to heat up. "How's school?" You offer it up into the silence, hoping that she'll talk to you.

"It's okay."

Determined not to give up that easily, you try a different question. "How is your art project?"

She shrugs. "It's fine, I guess."

"What do you have to do for it?" You pour the mix into the pan, making little circles to shape the pancakes.

"You have to make a parallel between two situations or experiences or places, or anything really."

You flip the pancakes. "What do you mean?"

"You have to just like… compare and contrast two things. Find parallels between them and capture them through something meaningful."

You're not sure you understand still, but you're glad she's finally talking. "That's sounds hard."

"It's okay."

You place a plate of pancakes in front of her, along with the syrup. "What are you comparing and contrasting?"

She sighs and looks at you at your spot across from her at the small table. "I don't really know."

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. "Haven't you've been working on it for weeks?"

She nods. "Yeah, but I want it to be good because there's this giant showing thing my teacher is putting on and everyone's work is shown. Then people can come and vote for the best two projects and they'll be shown in a bigger gallery." She stabs at a pancake. "Although, I don't know if I want to be in the big gallery because then people will bid on your work and can buy it."

You widen your eyes. "That's super cool, though."

She shrugs. "I guess, but I might not want to sell my stuff." Cass looks somewhere past you, eyes far away. "It'd be cool to be given the choice though."

You nod in agreement. "Definitely."

The room lulls into a silence as Cass picks at her pancakes. Up close, you can see what Brittany means by Cass looking like she's vacant. Her eyes are sunken and she seems to be too deep in thought. Her cheekbones look too prominent and her hair too stringy as it hangs around her face.

You suddenly feel like a tornado of emotions is whirling through you. You feel anxious and lost, but full of love for the quiet girl in front of you. Mostly you feel worried. The worry is spinning around inside you, overwhelming you, and you can't escape the twisting feeling.

"I need to ask you something." It comes out, because the anxiety is bubbling up, and you feel like you might combust with the feeling.

Cass looks up at you. "Okay…"

"Are you…" It feels stupid to ask this question. It feels dramatic and lame, but you need to ask. You take a deep breath. "Are you depressed?" You internally cringe as you say it, waiting for the harsh denial and the eye roll that says you took it too far and ruined this calm moment of eating pancakes in the dark at three in the morning.

Cass sets her fork down and looks at you. She's giving you that calculating look you've become so familiar with and it makes you feel guilty. You don't know why, but it does. Eventually, she sighs and looks back down at her plate. "I don't know."

"You don't?" That wasn't what you were expecting and now your voice feels too loud in your tiny dark kitchen.

She shrugs. "I feel hollow. I like, don't even know if I'm depressed because I don't feel sad. I feel empty."

"Do you know why?" You ask hesitantly. Brittany was right. You needed to talk to her. But now you don't really know what to do.

Cass shakes her head slightly, then shrugs. "Yeah." She breathes out, barely audible.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She opens her mouth to say something and you hold your breath. But then she closes it and shakes her head again. "No."

"Don't you think you should…?"

Her shoulders move up and down and she avoids your eyes. "I don't really want to."

"It might make you feel better."

"It might make me feel worse."

You purse your lips in thought, remembering her reaction when your mom came. She hadn't been empty then. You remember how she yelled and how she relaxed into your touch. So different from when you first met her and she tensed as you tried to reassure her on her first day of school.

"We need to talk about this, Cass. When we go to Ohio next week, I have to know everything so that I am as prepared as I can be. Otherwise you might have to go live with your abuela."

She huffs in frustration. "I hate this. Why does she want me now? We haven't spoken in a year and a half."

You tilt your head to the side curiously. Then something triggered in your brain. "Does this have to do with why she didn't… want you?"

Cass looks up at you with pleading eyes. "Can we not talk about it?"

"Cass we have to." You're trying to be patient, but now that the connection occurred to you, you need to figure it out. You're running out of time.

"I can't, Santana. I'm sorry." She stands up and brings her plate to the sink.

"Please, Cass. I need all the help I can get so you won't be taken away from me." Your voice is too desperate, too tiny. You feel like a child, not like an adult who is supposed to be in control of the situation. Not like badass Santana Lopez, who doesn't give a shit about anything.

She throws her hands up in defeat. "I'm not some fucking possession. I hate this! Don't I get a say in what I want?" She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"I don't know… Do you not want to stay here?" You ask hesitantly. Maybe she'd rather go home, back to Ohio and her old life.

Her eyes snap open. "Of course I want to stay here. I don't want to live with that bitch. I just don't like how everyone's just acting like they can fight over me like I can't even think or like I even have an opinion on the fucking situation."

"I'm sorry," you squeak out. Everything is so screwed up right now.

"It's just… I mean… I want…" Cass sighs and her hands drop to her side. "I need to go to bed."

"Cass, come on, we need to talk about this."

She looks at you and you see it in her eyes. They're empty and dull in the darkness. "I can't, Tía, I'm sorry."

"Cass…"

"Thanks for the pancakes," she whispers. She shoots you a final glance and leaves you sitting at the table. You hear her door shut softly down the hall.

You bury your head in your hands.

How did everything get so fucked up?

* * *

><p>You didn't mean to find it. It was an accident. You stumbled upon it by chance.<p>

You hadn't been able to sleep after your late night conversation. You hadn't even moved from your spot at the table. You were still sitting there, staring at the wall, when Cass and Brittany had gotten up for school.

It had been an odd morning. Cass had avoided you and Brittany had looked at you worriedly as she placed a kiss on your lips on her way out the door. You were tired, but didn't want to go to bed. You thought you could do the laundry. As she was walking out the door, you noticed Cass had taken your hoodie off. It was the first time in a while you had noticed she wasn't wearing it. So you decided to wash it with your other dirty clothes.

You opened her door and walked in swiftly, eyes roaming over the mountain of clothes on the ground. Maybe you should do her other laundry, too. You picked up shirts and jeans, throwing them into the basket. However, your hoodie wasn't among the clothes on the floor. Confused, you went on a search for it. Behind the dresser, in the closet. It was missing. Huffing in annoyance and cursing your stubborn attitude, you dropped down to your hands and knees, determined to find the damn thing.

You put your cheek on the carpet so that you'd be able to see under the bed better. There it was. You smirked in triumph, realizing Cass must have kicked it under there by accident. Reaching your fingers out, you made a grab for the hoodie. But then your hand hit something hard. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and curiosity, you wiggled farther under the bed and grabbed the sweatshirt and the hard item. It felt cool and fit in your hand nicely. It was round.

You pull your arm back out and move to sit up, but your head smacks against the underside of the bed. _Fuck_. That hurt. You carefully sit up and use your free hand to rub your temple gently. Your arm falls back down to the ground when you look at the items in your hand. Of course, one is the hoodie. And the other is….

A jar full of money?

Your forehead scrunches down as you stare at the jar. There must be at least $400 in the thing. Where did Cass get all this money?

You put the jar on top of the basket of clothes as you walk out of her room. When you have finally put the clothes in the washer, you sit down at the kitchen table and stare at the jar. There was nothing significant about the actual jar. It was plain and had no writing on it, just a screw on top. It was stuffed with twenty dollar bills, some tens. A few ones. No coins though.

You wonder what the money is from. You guess she could have brought it from home, but a sinking feeling tells you she didn't. You don't know why, but you're pretty sure she got it here in New York. Maybe she's a drug dealer.

Your eyes widen in surprise at the thought. No fucking way. Cass is _not_ a drug dealer. You tell yourself that over and over, but there's a little nagging of doubt in the back of your mind. You try to stay calm. You'll just ask Cass about it when she gets home.

Of course, that makes the day pass by excruciatingly slowly. As the hours tick by, you feel the exhaustion from not sleeping catching up to you, but you're antsy, speculations about a stupid jar running through your head.

You lay down in front of the TV and put on the food network. Maybe it will help you relax. Soon enough, you drift into a light sleep, not deep enough for dreaming. You vaguely hear the TV in the background, but your breathing evens out.

You're not quite sure what leads you out of your light slumber, but when you sit up and rub your eyes, Cass is walking through the door. You squint your eyes at the digital clock on the TV stand. It's almost eight. Too late for her to be getting back.

You feel her moving behind the couch, walking past you on your way to her room, as usual.

"Cass!"

"Yeah?"

"Come here." She appears in front of you, blocking the TV.

"I have to write a paper, Tía."

You look up at her. "Where have you been?"

She shrugs. "Working on my art project."

"For five hours?"

"Uh… yeah?" Her eyes shift slightly before focusing back on you.

You reach around her and grab the jar off the coffee table. "Where did you get this money?" You didn't mean to sound so accusing… but you just woke up and she was too late getting in and… whatever.

Her eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in anger. "You went in my room?"

You shrug. "I was getting your laundry."

"It was under my bed!" Her hands land on her hips.

"There were clothes under your bed." Both of your voices are angry and defensive.

"Are you shitting me?"

You stand up and cross your arms. "Look I didn't mean to find it. I wasn't snooping or anything, I promise."

Cass scoffs and opens her mouth to say something, but the door opens. Your head snaps to look at Brittany. "Hey, guys, what's going on?" She sets her bag on the floor and takes off her jacket before looking curiously at the two of you. You can only imagine how the standoff looks. "What's wrong?"

Cass huffs and glares at you, but you meet her gaze. "Yeah, Cass, what _is_ wrong?"

You see her jaw clench. "Nothing is wrong."

"You wouldn't be so defensive about your jar if nothing was wrong."

Brittany appears next to you. "What jar?" You hold out the jar of money and she stares at it for a second before looking at Cass. They seem to have a silent conversation, at the end of which Cass offers a small nod. "Oh."

You look at Brittany. "Oh?" She looks at you sheepishly and nods. "Do you know what this is, Britt?"

"Uh… yeah."

You throw your arms up in the air. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing is going on!" Cass exclaims.

"Cass." Brittany's voice is calm compared to yours and Cass'. "Just tell her."

Cass scoffs. "Britt!"

"Fuck this!" You throw the jar on the couch. "I'm sorry that I can't be in on whatever fucked up thing you guys are doing to make money. If this is some bonding shit, fine. You could at least tell me what's going on because I feel like I deserve to fucking know!" You move to leave, intent on storming away and slamming your bedroom door, but strong fingers wrap around your wrist.

"San, stop." Brittany looks at Cass. "Tell her. Now."

Cass mouth opens in shock at Brittany's sharp tone and she glances at the floor. "Fine. I made that money selling my paintings."

"You… wait, what?" You don't get why that would be something to hide.

"I spray paint. Like those guys on the street."

"What?" You still don't get it.

Cass sighs and looks up at you. "Every day after school, I go down to Battery Park and spray paint like I did in Colorado, remember? Then I sell the paintings."

"You go where?" Your mouth opens in shock and anger. "You told me you were working on your art project!"

Cass shrugs nonchalantly and it fuels your anger. "I knew you wouldn't let me go down there."

"Because it's dangerous! You can't just go down there where there are tourists and creeps and fucking… sell shit!" You feel your cheeks heating up in anger. "Especially alone! You're a teenager! And don't you need a license for that or something?"

Cass shakes her head. "Nothing ever happened, I was fine. And no, I already told you. You don't need a permit or anything to make or sell art on the street."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Something could've happened to you. Guys take advantage of young girls all alone on the street like that."

Cass huffs. "Nothing happened, God. And usually I wasn't alone, Britt was with me."

You turn on Brittany. "What? You knew about this?"

Red tinges her cheeks and she looks at you apologetically. "I stumbled upon her one afternoon. I didn't know she was doing it before that."

"And you didn't tell me?" You look at her incredulously, panic and anger coursing through you.

"I made her promise not to." Cass defiantly holds your gaze. "I didn't want you to know. At first she wouldn't let me stay there, but she promised not to tell you as long as she got to stay and make sure nothing happened. Except, she couldn't stay every day, and when she couldn't she was a fucking texting Nazi." Cass sighs and rolls her eyes. "Cass text me when you get there. Cass text me every hour. Cass text me when you're on your way back. Cass text me when you get home. I swear you guys think I'm like five or something."

"You're not old enough to do shit like that!"

"San, calm down." Brittany looks at you pleadingly, but you're pissed.

"No, I can't believe you didn't fucking tell me, Britt! I thought we needed trust and communication in this relationship!" Brittany looks hurt and guilty and your heart clenches, but your anger doesn't go away.

"Don't yell at Britt, it's not her fault." Cass' voice is low and angry.

"I can't believe this! I can't believe you did that Cass."

"I'm not a child, Santana."

You huff indignantly. "You're acting like one."

"Well, you're acting like my mom, and guess what, you're not her, either!"

Your eyes widen in hurt. "Well, sorry for caring about you!"

"Ugh, screw this!" Cass drops her hands to the side. "This doesn't even matter, because next week I probably won't even fucking be here anymore." She glares at you again and walks away. You hear her door slam.

You're breathing hard and you feel claustrophobic. You need to get out of here. You move to leave, but Brittany's hand grabs your arm again. "San, stop." You wrench your arm free.

"No, Britt, you stop. I can't believe you didn't tell me."

There are tears in her eyes and you look away. "I wanted to tell you so badly. But I promised Cass, Santana."

"Whatever."

"San, come on, please don't be like this."

"I have to get to work. We can… we can talk about this later." It's a lie, you don't have to work until eleven. But you desperately need to get out of here.

Brittany pauses and you think she's going to argue, but then she sighs. "Okay."

You grab all your shit and put on your jacket, and the whole time Brittany just watches you from her spot by the couch.

You're walking out when you think you hear a timid, "I love you."

The door has closed behind you before you can respond.

* * *

><p>The night air whips around you as you walk home later that night. Work had been a blur. You don't even remember anything that happened. You had been a zombie, simply moving on autopilot. You feel pressure behind your eyes as you walk, but you refuse to cry.<p>

You've calmed down by now. You feel numb to the angry feeling that had previously consumed you. Now all you feel is sadness and worry. Sadness that you had been lied to, worry that something could've happened to Cass and you wouldn't have known where she was.

It's possible that you had overreacted, but you don't think so. You're pretty sure your anger and anxiety were justified. Although, the stress and worry you had been feeling the last few weeks had definitely pushed their way out of you while you were yelling.

But the tornado inside you was gone now, replaced by the thought that Cass' angry words were probably true. Next week, she could be gone, and this whole thing wouldn't even matter. You would be alone again.

Except, you have Brittany. You bite your lip in fear, suddenly unsure what you would find concerning that situation when you return home. This was your first big fight. You hope it won't break you because you love Brittany. You know it in the way that you're not mad anymore, just disappointed. The feeling makes you want to curl up in bed with her arms wrapped tightly around you, even though she's the reason behind your disappointment.

You sigh as you quietly push open the apartment door. The hall light is still on and you wonder if someone is up or if the detail was just forgotten in the commotion from earlier. Your answer is given to you in the form of a sleeping Brittany on the couch. Cass snores quietly on the floor next to her. The TV flickers gently in the background, some reality show flashing across the screen.

You run your fingers through Brittany's soft hair and smile slightly. She is beyond beautiful, even as you observe that her eyes are puffy and her makeup smudged down her face, evidence that she's been crying.

She stirs under your fingers, blue eyes flickering open and blinking into focus. She passes a hand over her face and looks at you apprehensively. "San?"

"Hi," you whisper. "You fell asleep on the couch."

She closes her eyes gently before peering back up at you. "San, I'm so sorry."

You sigh. "I know, B."

"I should have told you."

"Yeah." You nod, but stroke your thumb across her cheek. You feel soft around the edges since your anger has disappeared.

Brittany sits up and takes your hands in hers and pulls you down on the couch. You're careful to avoid stepping on Cass. "I screwed up, San. I really shouldn't have done that. I wasn't thinking."

You shrug and pull her close to you. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Her voice is muffled in your shirt.

You don't really want to talk about it anymore. You just want everything to be okay again. "I forgive you."

Brittany pulls back and looks at you. You smile slightly at her and lean in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "I love you," she murmurs, the sound reverberating around your lips.

"I love you, too."

Brittany leans her head on your shoulder and looks down at Cass on the floor. "She was trying to wait for you."

"Hmmm." You make a noise in acknowledgement. "Why?"

"She wanted to tell you something. That's what she said anyway."

You look down at Cass' sleeping form. "Think it can wait until morning? It's late."

Brittany shrugs. "She said she can't go to bed because it's important and convinced me to let her stay up since it's the weekend."

You chuckle quietly. "Right."

Brittany kisses you lightly on the cheek. "Should we wake her up?"

"She can't sleep on the floor."

Brittany nods. "I can carry her to bed."

You smirk at her. "You're so strong, like a superhero."

Kissing you fully on the lips, Brittany giggles. "Don't be lame." She bends down and slides her arms under Cass, who starts to stir.

"Ugh, five more minutes."

"Go back to sleep," Brittany whispers. "I'm just taking you to bed." She starts to lift her arms, but Cass' eyes snap open.

"No, Britt! I have to wait for Santana to get back!"

Brittany pulls her arms away and Cass sits up, rubbing her eyes. You feel a small smile playing at your lips. Cass looks back at Brittany before her eyes land on you.

"Tía, you're home."

"Yeah." You nod. "You should go to bed."

She shakes her head. "No I have to tell you something!" Cass scrambles up and sits in the spot on the couch Brittany just vacated. She looks wide awake and you stare at her.

"It can't wait until morning?"

Cass shakes her head frantically. "I might not be brave enough again in the morning."

You see Brittany furrow her eyebrows. "What are you talking about Cass?"

Cass pulls Brittany down on the couch on her other side. "I have to tell you guys something important."

"Okay…" You look at Brittany questioningly, but she shrugs, just as confused as you are.

Cass takes a deep breath. "Well, first, I'm really sorry I did that behind your back. It was stupid and I don't regret it, but I understand that you were worried about me because you care about me. And for that I'm sorry."

You nod. "Okay."

She looks at you and bites her lip. "And I'm sorry for what I said about… not being here next week. I freaked out and I didn't mean that."

"It's true though," you whisper and watch as Cass gets a pained look on her face. Brittany reaches across the back of the couch and grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I know it is. That's why I have to tell you something else." She nods determinedly. "I was thinking about what you said the other night. You know… how we need to be prepared. Because I cannot go back to living in Ohio, Tía. No fucking way." You breathe out a small laugh. "I want to stay here with you and Britt. I love you guys."

Brittany lets go of your hand and wraps her arms around Cass, kissing her on the cheek. "Aw, we love you too Cassy."

Cass snorts. "Never call me that again, Britt." Brittany only squeezes her tighter and laughs. "Let go, B, can't breathe!" Britt smiles and untangles herself from Cass, but keeps her arm around the back of the couch. You reach for her hand again.

"Can we get on with whatever it is you need to say? It's like four in the morning." Your statement is emphasized with a yawn. You remember that you didn't sleep last night either. Somehow just thinking that makes you even more tired.

Cass bites her lip again. She might chew through it soon. Ha, that would look so weird. Oh. Yeah, you really need to go to bed, you're thinking weird thoughts.

"Well, so… I've done a lot of things in my past that I'm not proud of…" Cass pauses and you nod, encouraging her to continue. "Like, drinking and sleeping around. And because of these things, I've… had to make some really hard choices and I've had to disappoint a lot of people." She looks at her hands in her lap before continuing.

"His name was Tommy Andrews. He was cute and smart and he played hockey. He wasn't my boyfriend, but we kind of had a thing, I guess. We were drunk at a party and we had slept together before, so it wasn't anything new or different." Cass' voice is strained and you put your free hand on her lap. She grabs it between her own hands, but doesn't look up at you. "Except this time was new and different because he didn't wear a condom. But I didn't notice. I was so drunk."

You don't know what feeling fills you up at that moment. Maybe dread or pain for Cass. But it runs through your whole body because you know what she's going to say next. "Oh, God." The unknown feeling pushes the words out of you and suddenly you feel even more exhausted than before, but strangely wide awake.

"Every day I wonder what would have happened if he had just worn a stupid fucking condom, or if I hadn't been so drunk. Would things be different?" Cass squeezes your hand tightly. "Except it's in the past and things aren't different and it doesn't matter, because I got pregnant and everything changed."

Brittany scoots closer and Cass curls up against your side. "What did you do with the baby?" Brittany asks softly.

Cass drops your hand and wraps her fingers around your shirt as tears start to trickle out of her eyes. You pull her closer. "I… I couldn't be like them, Tía. Like all of our stupid cousins and aunts. They all had kids when they were teenagers. Abuela had my mom when she was sixteen. I didn't want to be like that. I needed to get out of stupid Ohio and away from my stupid fucked up dad and I needed to be better than them."

You wrap your arms around Cass and squeeze her to you closely. "Oh baby girl, you will always be better than them. It's okay."

Cass shakes her head against your shoulder. "I had an abortion." Her body wracks with sobs and Brittany eliminates the rest of the space on the couch, squishing up tightly against Cass' other side. "Abuela… she hated me because I got one. She was willing to forget that I had been sleeping around, or maybe she didn't know. I don't know. She never cared what I did before. But Dad told her about the abortion." Her fingers tighten around your shirt like she's afraid you'll leave her too.

"It was the only time I had ever heard about you. We had driven to Lima to see her and that's when Dad told her. I think he was drunk. And she kept screaming, going off about how everyone in the family was a letdown and a sinner. First, Santana and now me. And I was so confused because I had never heard of a Santana."

You close your eyes softly, imagining your mom's anger. "I'm so sorry, Cass."

Cass sniffles loudly. "I asked her who Santana was and she looked at me and her eyes were so scary and intimidating. She told me I'd find out when I got to hell." Cass laughs slightly through her sobs. "I thought she was so dramatic and I rolled my eyes and then she opened the door and told me to get the fuck out of her house."

Her sobbing increases and she grips you even tighter. "Please don't hate me. I just couldn't be like them and I know I could've given it up for adoption, but I was afraid I would end up keeping it. I just couldn't, Tía. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Cass."

"I'm an awful person. I hurt so many people." She releases your shirt and wipes at her eyes.

You pull her hands away from her face. "You aren't an awful person. You did what you thought was best."

Her eyes are red and puffy and you can just barely see warm brown through her tears and smudged makeup. "I'm so sorry. Seeing her again made it all come back and I know I've been worrying you lately because I can hear you guys talking about me. I wanted to tell you when you asked me, but I couldn't because I was afraid you would throw me out too."

You pull her back to your chest. "I couldn't throw you out, Cass. I love you." You kiss her forehead gently.

You feel Brittany's arms wiggle their way into the mix and Cass leans back into her, legs still draped in your lap. Cass starts sobbing again. "I love you guys."

Brittany rests Cass' head on her chest and pulls you closer. "I love you, too, Cass. You're my girl."

"I thought I was your girl." You pout playfully.

Cass laughs into Brittany's chest and Brittany tilts her head to the side. "You're my other girl. Cass is like… my cuddly favorite sister girl. You're my super beautiful sexy girl."

Cass groans, her face still hidden in Brittany's shirt. "I'm still right here, Britt, please don't be eye fucking."

You laugh lightly and snuggle closer into Cass and Britt's arm snakes around your shoulders. You sit quietly for a minute before you think of something. "Are you still depressed? I have an idea."

Cass sighs. "I don't know. Can it wait until morning? I want to sleep now and you look like shit."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, it can wait."

"Good." Cass reaches for your arm and practically pulls you on top of her. Brittany laughs and you shift so you're comfortable, wrapped around the two girls you love more than anything.

Here, you finally don't feel lost or unsure of what to do. You know this is why you aren't on that stupid cloud anymore. Because Brittany loves both you and Cass, and needs you. You're needed here, to keep Cass grounded, to love her and show her that she is not alone. And that you are not alone, because you need them too.


	15. Chapter 15

_Click. Click. Click._

You sigh and try not to lose it. You're stressed and your head is pounding.

_Click. Click. Click._

Jaw clenched, you take a deep breath. In. Out.

_Click. Click. Click._

"Will you put that thing away!"

The clicking stops and you feel two sets of eyes on you.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

"Cass." You say sternly. "No. Just stop taking my picture." You turn in your seat and gesture to the camera in her hands.

She rolls her eyes. "What else am I supposed to do with this thing?"

"Yeah, San. Just let her. It was your idea." Brittany grips the steering wheel lightly and glances over at you.

You curse the moment you ever said the words 'Fabray. I need a favor.' You really didn't intend for something like this to happen. You just thought that since Quinn and Cass had that whole art bond thing going on (not to mention unexpected teenage pregnancy) that Quinn could just _talk_ to Cass. Quinn seemed to have other ideas. The conversation had consisted of a few sentences before Quinn had handed her a camera that had been lying on her desk. Cass had looked at her apprehensively and said, "Why are you giving me this?"

"It's my favorite one," came Quinn's reply. "Just try it. And when you come back, let's talk about an internship for you."

Furrowed eyebrows. "An internship?"

"Yeah, with my company. It'll give you artistic experience and look awesome on your college applications."

"I can't take your favorite camera, Quinn. I don't know anything about photography."

Quinn just chuckled. "Just try pressing the button for now, I can teach you more when you come back."

Cass looked at the camera forlornly. "What if I don't get to stay in New York?"

Quinn glanced at you before smiling knowingly. "I guess Santana will just have to make sure you do then."

And so now, here you are, the constant model for Cass and her new camera. You're never asking Quinn for a favor again.

"Okay, I realize that you need… release or whatever, and that Quinn thought a camera would be the way for you to find that. But I have a headache and I look like shit so can you please just put it away for now?"

Cass rolls her eyes so hard you swear they'll bump against her skull. "You're such a baby, Tía." You slump against your seat and close your eyes, willing the headache away.

_Click._

Fuck your life.

* * *

><p>When Brittany pulls up to the drop off area, your heart feels like it's in your throat. You watch in silence as she opens the trunk to Mike's little Honda. She had borrowed it to drive you to the airport. You help her pull out the suitcases and look over to see Cass snapping pictures of the horizon, although you can't imagine they'll turn out too great. It's too gray and foggy.<p>

Britt grabs Cass by the arm and whispers something that you can't hear over the sound of honking horns and the teary goodbyes of other people. Cass bites her lip and nods before pulling Brittany into a tight embrace. The roaring of a plane flying overhead rumbles through you and you shiver as Brittany approaches you. She pulls your jacket tighter around you and smiles softly at you.

"Don't be nervous," she says.

You don't know how her eyes can show so such confidence and certainty. You try to match it. "I'm not."

She sees through you, you can tell, but she doesn't comment on it. "It's going to be fine."

You nod as though you agree, but the tornado is back inside you, destroying any semblance of calm that you might've had before. You try to tell her that you've got this, but the words get stuck in your throat.

"I'll miss you." She cocks her head to the side in that cute puppy way and you clear your throat.

"I miss you, too." It comes out too quiet for your liking. You sound scared. You need to pull yourself together because Cass needs you.

Brittany grabs your face in her hands and gives you the most encouraging smile you've ever seen. "You can do this, babe. You're going to kick ass and then Cass can come home and you can come back to me."

You laugh quietly and nod. "Okay." You lean forward and press your lips to hers. She kisses you eagerly and you forget that you're at the airport and that Cass is right there and that you have a plane to catch.

"I'll miss you," Brittany mumbles against your lips.

"You already said that." You can't help the way your lips curve up slightly.

"Because it's true." She kisses you again and your hands clamp down on her hips, unwilling to let go.

You hear someone clear their throat. "Tía, I get that you and Britt won't get to have sweet lady kisses for like, three days, but we're going to miss our flight."

You sigh against Brittany's lips and you feel her nose scrunch. "Okay." You wrap your arms securely around her and feel her squeeze you back. "I love you," you whisper into her neck.

Brittany's grip around you tightens. "I love you, too."

"Tía! Come on!" You pull back and drop your arms.

"Good luck, babe." Brittany places one last chaste kiss on your lips and yanks your suitcase handle up for you.

Her blue eyes make you desperately yearn for summer skies and you shiver against the winter wind. "I'll call you." She nods and you grab your suitcase.

"Finally," Cass mutters. "Bye Britt."

She smiles as you make your way to sliding doors by the check in area. You hear her call to you one last time. "I love you guys!"

You wave over your shoulder and follow Cass into the warmth of the airport.

* * *

><p>"What does she look like?"<p>

"Blonde."

"Is that her?" Cass points to a short woman with a blonde pixie cut.

"No."

"She's like a half hour late, Tía, this is ridiculous."

You continue to sip at your latte, completely unfazed by your lawyer's tardiness. You had known her for years and this was nothing new. She was always late. "Relax, she'll be here."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the door to the coffee shop opens and the person in question appears. Spotting you, the blonde woman smirks and strolls over to your table.

"Hey hot stuff."

You stand up and give her a hug. "Holly, hi! This is my niece, Cass. Cass, this is Holly Holliday."

Cass cocks an eyebrow. "A name like that makes you sound like a stripper."

Holly smirks. "Those days are over, unfortunately. Don't worry, my new gig pays just as well." She sticks out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. Santana has told me about you, but she certainly didn't mention that you're as hot as her." Cass shakes her hand and raises her eyebrows at you. You just shrug.

"I think you mean hotter than her." Cass laughs out. You roll your eyes.

"Well, that's debatable, but I think we're here to discuss other business." Holly sits down and opens her briefcase. "So, Cass, from what I understand, you want to stay with your aunt."

Cass nods. "Definitely."

"Okay. Well, given your age, your opinion will most likely be taken into account." Cass smiles, but Holly holds up her hand. "However, it seems Mrs. Lopez and her lawyer are filing a complaint on Santana's ability to be a good guardian for you."

You furrow your eyebrows. "How can they prove I'm not?"

Holly shrugs. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get any information from Ms. Sylvester on the angles they'll take to prove that you aren't." She sighs. "If they can't prove that you either are or aren't fit to take care of Cass, I'm not quite sure what the verdict will be."

"So how are we supposed to prove that she is?" Cass asks. "Santana has been way better than anything I've had in the past."

"Well, you'll have to testify. Unfortunately, we don't have any other people that can take the stand other than the two of you." Holly flicks through some of her papers. "One thing I can prepare you for is how Sue works. I've done some research and from what I've come up with… she's going to try and attack you, Santana."

You raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she might try to list reasons why Sonya would be a better guardian for Cass. But it is much more likely that she'll try to break down all your weaknesses to prove that you aren't fit to take care of someone."

"My weaknesses? Like what?"

Holly shrugs. "Sylvester is a very unorthodox lawyer. Her methods aren't always successful, but she definitely drives her points home when it counts."

"Well fuck yeah!" Cass looks at you with a huge smile. "Tía, we've got this in the bag."

"Not so fast, short stuff." Holly shakes her head at Cass. "It's hard to prepare for the way Sylvester will try to question you. Don't underestimate her. She's not going to go easy on you, that's for sure."

"How bad can it be? They can't have much dirt on Santana, can they?"

Holly shrugs again. "I honestly don't know. What does your mother know about you Santana?"

"Uh…" You think about it. "Nothing really, I guess. I haven't seen her in forever. Well, except for a couple of weeks ago."

Cass smiles. "See. No big deal."

Holly bites her lip. "Well, I'm not as confident as you are. We'll definitely have to be careful with how we present our side of the case."

You look at Holly nervously. "Is there anything I should avoid talking about?"

"Not that I can think of." Holly purses her lips in thought. "We could try to turn it back on your mother by talking about how she wasn't great to you, possibly."

You nod. "That could work."

"Awesome." Cass taps the table impatiently. "So are we done here because as far as I can tell, there's no way we're going to lose."

"Well, if that confidence shows up while you're being questioned, I might agree with you." Holly puts her papers back in her briefcase. "I guess we'll just have to kick some ass and hope for the best."

You sigh and run a hand over your face. "Thanks Holly."

"Anytime, chica. That's why you pay me." Holly quirks an eyebrow. "Unless you want to pay me to strip for you, because I think I've still got it." She winks. "Well, I'll see you lovely ladies tomorrow."

You watch as Holly gets up and leaves, waving when she looks back at you from the doorway of the coffee shop. Cass watches her go with a skeptical look before turning to look at you.

"Wait, she wasn't serious about that stripper thing, right?"

* * *

><p>It seemed the only thing left to do was wait. Wait for tomorrow. Wait for Sue Sylvester's inevitable verbal beating. Wait for the verdict that could take Cass away from you.<p>

If there is one thing you didn't have right now, it is patience.

"Tía, I'm bored." Cass slumps down on your bed with a huff. The reverberating bounces cause you to almost spill your coffee on the newspaper you're reading.

"Draw or something. Watch TV."

"There's nothing on. And I didn't bring my art stuff."

You snort and grab the little pad of paper with the hotel's insignia off the night stand, tossing it at her. "Here's some paper."

Cass glares at you and tosses the paper somewhere into the tiny room. "Can we go somewhere? I'm dying."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

You sigh. "Because I said so, that's why."

Cass rolls her eyes. "You're being so lame right now."

"Go to the pool."

"I hate swimming."

You huff in frustration. Can't she see you just want some peace and quiet to try and get your mind off of tomorrow? "Fine, then just sit here and be bored."

Cass lets out an exaggerated sigh and pushes off your bed. She rummages in her suitcase before disappearing into the bathroom. You roll your eyes and go back to reading the newspaper.

A few minutes later, Cass reappears wearing shorts and a purple bikini top. She's throwing her hair into a messy ponytail.

"I thought you hated swimming." You quirk an eyebrow at her as she grabs her key card from the desk in the corner.

"I do. I'm going in the hot tub." She glances at you. "You should come, you seem stressed."

You roll your eyes, hidden behind your newspaper. "I don't think that will help me relax."

"Fine whatever." She opens the door. "I'll be back in a little bit and then maybe we could get dinner or something?"

"Sure."

"Kay. Bye."

The door closes with a loud thud and you slump back down on your pillows and close your eyes. Stupid Cass, bothering you when you're super stressed out.

She had been pestering you all afternoon, with her cocky smirks and confidence that left no room to be nervous about tomorrow. Except you were nervous. You were fucking terrified. Physically, you weren't prepared to be questioned about your personal life. Emotionally, you definitely weren't ready to be interrogated.

It was kind of ironic really. Just five months ago you were nervous about Cass being forced into your life. Now you were distraught because you might lose her. The thought turned your breathing into short irregular gasps and made your stomach tighten painfully.

You go to take another sip of your coffee, trying to calm your nerves, but it's empty. Dammit. You're thinking about whether or not you should get another one, when your phone rings. You look at the caller ID and immediately answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Hey babe."_

"Hi, Britt." You sigh in relief and let her voice spread through your body.

"_How's it going?"_

"It's okay. How are you? How was work?"

"_It was pretty good. School was long, but I'm really excited about the show. The dancers have finally picked up the choreography and I think they'll be perfect in time for opening night. It's in a few weeks."_

You smile, completely content with listening to the soft sound of Brittany's voice. "That's awesome, B."

"_Yeah, it's pretty cool, huh?"_

"My girlfriend is going to be a famous choreographer soon and I won't be important anymore." You giggle quietly, the joke a nice contrast to all the stress you feel.

"_You'll still be important. You can be like, my trophy wife and stuff."_ You can hear Brittany's smirk through the phone.

"Oh and what makes you think I'll marry you?"

"_I'm awesome, remember?"_

"Right, right."

There's a pause across the line and you can hear Brittany's quiet breaths crackling into the receiver.

"_So how'd your meeting go?"_ Brittany finally asks.

"It was okay." You decide not to tell her Holly's suspicions about how Sylvester might attack you. Even if the thought makes your heart flip again. Apparently Brittany knows you too well, though.

"_What's wrong?"_

You search for the right words. "Nothing, I'm just pretty stressed."

She makes a noise of acknowledgement, but doesn't say anything for a minute. Finally she says, "What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing. Just lying on the bed in the hotel room."

"_Where's Cass?"_

You shrug, forgetting that she can't see you. "At the pool."

"_So she isn't there?"_

"No…?" Brittany laughs quietly and your eyebrows involuntarily scrunch together in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"_I can help you relieve some stress if you want."_

A shiver runs through your body at the sudden change in Brittany's voice. It's low and husky and oh so sexy.

"Oh?" Your voice is an octave too high as you try to feign nonchalance.

"_Mhmmm."_

"Uh… But what if Cass comes back?"

"_You said she was at the pool."_

"She might come back!"

"_But San, I already put on my sexy black lingerie that you like so much." _You can practically see Brittany's adorable pout through the phone. It's a strange contrast to the picture in your head of Brittany in lacy underwear. You clench your legs tighter at the thought.

"_But I guess if you don't want to, then I can just…"_ Brittany pauses, her voice dropping another level. _"Take it off."_

Your breath gets caught in your throat and you chance a look at the door. Uncertainly, your hand delicately runs over the flat of your stomach and pauses at the top of your shorts. You close your eyes and the image of Brittany in bed, naked, with the telephone pressed to her ear makes your decision for you.

"That's hot."

"_It's about to get hotter."_

"Bring it on."

"_We're going to celebrate when you get back, San. And do you know what I'm going to do?"_

"No, what's that?" You bite your lip and your hand slides into your underwear.

"_Take your clothes off."_

"Oh is that how we're going to celebrate?"

"_San. You're ruining it." _You laugh at Brittany's exasperated voice.

"Sorry, Britt-Britt. Go on."

"_And then I'm going to put my tongue _everywhere_."_

You run a finger through your wet folds. Fuck.

"_And I'll tease right above where you really want it."_

Your thumb circles your clit and you can't help the tiny whimper that comes out of your mouth.

"_And then I'm going to touch-"_

There's a thump on the door and your head snaps over to look at it.

"Shit!" You yank your hand out of your panties as the door clicks open, revealing Cass wrapped up in a towel.

"_San?"_

"Hey," Cass says, giving you a weird look.

"Hi." Your voice comes out hoarse and you clear your throat.

"What are you doing?"

"_Santana? Hello? Oh. Shit. Did Cass come back?"_

You pull the phone away from your ear. "Talking to Brittany." You motion toward the phone in your hand before speaking into the receiver. "Uh, yeah, B. It's Cass."

"_Oh tell her I said hi!"_

"Okay." You raise your eyebrows at Cass. "That was fast."

She shrugs. " I got hot."

"_Did you tell her I said hi? Santana, you better tell her."_

You roll your eyes. "Britt says hi."

"Tell her I said hi back. What are you guys talking about?"

You feel heat creep into your face. "Uh. Nothing really."

Cass' eyes narrow and you can see she's taking in your flustered cheeks and the shake in your voice. "Okay…"

You bite your lip. "Hey Britt, Cass says hi, but how about I talk to you later?"

"_Okay. Love you."_

"Yeah, love you too, bye." You pull the phone away from your ear and press the end button. "So… want to get dinner?"

"Sure."

You wait for Cass to get changed, then head to a Mexican restaurant you saw earlier. You don't really like going out for Mexican, because you can make it just fine, but you had a craving for enchiladas and the place looked kind of legit.

Dinner is a quiet event. Both you and Cass are in your own little words, thinking. You're not sure what's on her mind, but you can't stop thinking of how you're going to keep it cool at the hands of unorthodox and brutal Sue Sylvester.

On the way home, Cass finally turns to you. "So… about what you were talking about on the phone with Britt before…"

You feel your breathing start to pick up. "What about it?"

"It's okay to be nervous, Tía. But I honestly think we're going to win this. I know you like reassurance from Britt, but I believe in you too."

You almost laugh. And here you were, thinking she caught you. Ha. "Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Cass."

She smiles at you. "And no matter what happens, we're still family. Even if I have to move in with Abuela. You and Britt will always be more of a family to me than her."

You feel a lump form in your throat. "Uh. Yeah, me too." You try to smile at her, but you really want to cry. What if this amazing person is taken from you?

You arrive back at the hotel and slowly make your way up to your floor and to your room. You think you have a handle on the pressure behind your eyes by now, but your breathing is still a little shaky.

Cass slides her card into the key slot and the door opens with a click. She leads you into the room and throws a smirk at you over her shoulder.

"By the way, Tía, that bed is yours until the maid cleans the sheets, if you catch my drift."

You kind of want to die from embarrassment as Cass snaps a picture of your face at that moment. There may be a lot of unknowns in your life right now, a lot of things to worry about. But if there is one thing you're sure of, it's that Cass will never have a filter.

Dammit.

* * *

><p>You're on a mission. You have one hour until you need to pick Cass back up at the hotel and head to the courthouse. There's just one thing you need to do before that.<p>

Your insides squirm a little in nervousness as you check in with the guard at the Ohio State Penitentiary. An officer meets you on the other side of the metal detector and leads you to a room with a few tables. He sits you down at one and tells you he'll be right back. You notice not many other people are in the visiting room. A man in an orange prison jumpsuit is talking to a young woman. They are laughing, even though the man is handcuffed to the table and the woman has lines around her eyes that shouldn't belong on a face that young. Another man in a tailored suit sits at a table ruffling through a briefcase. He glances at his watch every few minutes.

The door to the room opens again and the officer leads a man to your table. He handcuffs the man and nods at you, telling you that you have twenty minutes. You nod back before your eyes shoot back to the man across from you. He is looking back at you and the hardness in his eyes makes your insides cold.

You barely recognize the face of Roberto Velasquez. You have only met him on a few occasions and that was many years ago. He has now grown a beard and is much thinner; his jumpsuit hanging off of him like it might swallow him whole.

You clear your throat and stare back into his curious eyes, refusing to be intimidated. "Hi Mr. Velasquez, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm-"

"Santana Lopez." His voice is gruff and deep. "I know who you are."

You nod. "Yes, sir."

Roberto narrows his eyes at you. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here about Cass."

You watch as his face softens slightly before returning to its former expression of hard indifference. "She's living with you now."

You nod. "Since mid-October." He doesn't say anything so you continue. "Actually, I'm here about money." You decide to get straight to the point. You don't have a lot of time anyway.

Roberto scoffs. "And why would I give you money? What makes you think I even have any to give?"

"I'm not asking for money." You take a deep breath. "What I want to know is whether or not you have set up an account for Cass for post-high school plans."

He raises his eyebrows. "You mean for college and shit?" You nod. "That's really not your business. Besides, Cass isn't smart enough for college, her grades are shit."

You feel your lips thin out. "Actually, Cass is very capable of getting into a prestigious school."

"Bull shit. Cass hasn't had a bone of motivation in her whole life. She quits everything. Even that damn baby she might've had."

You clench your hands under the table. "Well, I'm sure that's what she believed when ass holes like you were telling her that."

"Listen, bitch." He slams his hand on the table and you jump slightly. "You can't come in here and tell me about my daughter like you know her. You don't know shit."

You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "I care about your daughter. And Cass has the potential to go far in life." You bite your lip and lean forward. "You and me? We're fuck ups. I'll be the first to admit that I have almost nothing going for me. I'm sure you can speak for yourself. But I won't sit here and let you tell me that Cass is going nowhere, because she sure as hell is going to do a lot better in life than we did. So believe what you want, but don't try to convince me because you won't."

Roberto glares at you and you see his fingers flexing on the table. Then he slumps in his seat and laughs, short and dry. "You're definitely related to my daughter. Stubborn bitch."

You smile slightly. Coming from him, it's the best compliment you may have ever received. "We've been told that quite a lot actually."

He snorts. "Right. Well, even so, why should I trust you with Cass' fund?"

You shrug. "I don't want Cass' money. I just want to know if she has an account."

Roberto runs a hand through his beard. "She has one."

You nod. "Thank you." You move to stand, but think of something. "One last thing, sir. Is Cass' account accessible, and if it is, can I put a lock on it so she can only access it when she's eighteen?"

Roberto's eyes search you. "And why would you do that?"

You bite your lip trying to determine if he knows the situation and if he is on your mom's side. You decide to take a chance. "Cass might not be in my custody much longer and I don't want her future to be jeopardized by someone else's selfishness."

Roberto glances at the table before looking back up at you. "It's already locked actually. I'll have my lawyer send you the information."

You nod and look at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir." You stand up and he eyes you warily. "Goodbye, Roberto."

He grunts and you decide that's all you're going to get. It doesn't matter much to you anyway. You walk out of the prison with your head held high.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

><p>"Stop fidgeting!" Cass clamps a hand on your leg under the table. "It's going to be <em>fine<em>."

You take in a deep breath and try to keep still, but you're nervous as fuck. The time has come and you can feel sweat on the back of your neck.

The trial is not quite what you expected it to be. First, you aren't even in a courtroom. You're in a conference/meeting room at the courthouse. Second, an impartial defense attorney sits at the end of the table in place of a judge. Cass, you, and Holly sit at one side, while Sonya and Sue Sylvester glare at you from the other.

Sylvester is the second thing you didn't expect, but from Holly's description, her look fits her. She is tall and has short blonde hair. Her face is lined and business like, set in a hard glare that sends chills up your spine. You get the feeling that she takes no prisoners.

Especially when that glare is set on you.

"Santana Lopez, you are twenty-six, correct?"

You nod, unsure if your voice will work right now.

"And what is your current occupation, Ms. Lopez?"

You clear your throat. "Umm. I work at a bar called Puckerman's."

Sue nods to herself and you think you might detect a small smirk on her lips. "And what hours do you work?"

"Typically eight PM until one to three AM." You grimace at how shaky your voice sounds.

"And Cassandra, what do you do while your aunt is at work?" Sylvester looks at Cass and you internally freak out. She squeezes your knee under the table before answering.

"Homework. Or draw." She shrugs, nonchalant. Hmmm. Clever. She's not technically lying.

"And have you ever accompanied Ms. Lopez to her place of work?"

You fix your gaze ahead of you, desperate not to give anything away if Cass lies. You might be sick with nerves.

"Once or twice."

You exhale sharply and look at the attorney at the head of the table. He wears a mask of indifference.

"A minor spending her school nights in a bar. That's very interesting." Sylvester glances at the attorney. "Doesn't sound very responsible, does it?"

Holly clears her throat next to you. "Actually if the minor is accompanied by an adult twenty-one and over, they're allowed to be in a bar. My client and her niece have not broken any laws, as long as no alcohol was served to Cass." Holly turns to Cass. "Cass, did you ever receive alcohol at Puckerman's?"

Cass shakes her head. "Nope. Just unlimited refills on Coke."

"Well there you have it." Holly smirks at Sylvester.

"That was wonderful insight, Holly Hooker. But the fact remains that a young child out so late at night in a bar in New York, is not a very responsible thing for the guardian to allow."

Holly scoffs beside you. "There are worse places for the child to be. If I remember correctly, Cass was out partying before she went to live with Santana. At least my client knows where Cass is and is sure that she is safe."

"That is completely irrelevant to this case and can't be proven."

Holly shifts and leans forward. "It is both provable and relevant!"

Sylvester shrugs. "Moving on." She sifts through some papers in front of her before turning to you. "Now Ms. Lopez, is it true that you are not married?"

You nod. "Yes, that's true. But I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Studies show that children with only one parental figure in their life are more likely to lash out. They are also more likely to do drugs and become prostitutes. Not unlike your lawyer here."

"Objection!" Holly slams her hand on the table and turns to the defense attorney. "Matthews, this is ridiculous."

The man nods. "Sue, please refrain from making offensive remarks and continue."

"Well, as I was saying, this young lady needs two parental authorities in her life, which Santana cannot give to her."

You scoff. "Neither can she." You gesture toward your mom. "Her husband left years ago."

"And I do have that in New York," Cass interjects. "Santana's girlfriend lives with us."

Sylvester smirks again. "I learned in law school that children with homosexual parents are more likely to be bullied and there is a 75% chance they will either snap or be the cause of a school shooting that is a massacre or they will eventually end up in prison."

"What?" Holly crosses her arms. "What law school did you go to? That's completely outrageous!"

"I received my law degree online, thank you very much."

Holly puts her head in her hands.

"Now, it is clearly shown that lesbian relationships are an unhealthy environment for children to be raised around. If Cassandra were to move back with my client, she would not only be away from that, but would also be around a right number of authoritative influences."

"Abuela kicked both me and Santana out of her house at one point." Cass turns to Attorney Matthews. "Don't you think kids need a more supportive environment than that? Santana has been nothing but good to me. We were starting to look at art schools for college."

"The arts are a waste of space in this world." Sylvester nods determinedly. "I, for one, believe that art departments should be completely disbanded at schools and made illegal to practice outside of your own home. The focus on aesthetics is nothing but counterproductive to the economy and has no place in the business field."

Cass looks shocked, her mouth hanging open, as Sue continues. "Now, back to the point. As I was saying, if Cassandra were to move back to Ohio, she would be under the care of my client, who would make sure she would follow a suitable career pathway and make smart choices. She would also be granted full visitation rights to her father, who will act as a second parental figure in her life, until he is released, which will then allow him to be her primary guardian."

"The man is in jail!" Holly exclaims. "He clearly isn't fit to take care of Cass!"

"Wait, I'll get to see my father?" Cass' voice is soft and tiny. She sounds insecure.

Sylvester nods. "Once a week."

The table sits in silence for a minute until Attorney Matthews clears his throat. "Anything else Ms. Holliday?"

Holly shoots you an apologetic glance. "No, sir."

"Sylvester?"

"I think my point was proven."

Matthews nods. "Well, I see both strengths and flaws in each side. So I think it is acceptable for Cassandra to choose who she would like to live with."

You sigh in relief. You turn to Cass, but your triumphant smile falters slightly. She's biting her lip and staring at Matthews.

Her eyes briefly flicker over to you. "Can I have a few minutes to think about it?"

He nods. "We'll just step right outside. Take your time."

Everyone moves to exit the room, but you just stare at her, shocked. She avoids your eyes so you get up and squeeze her shoulder lightly before making your way into the hallway. You can see the receding backs of the others but you slide down the wall right outside the door and wait.

You don't know how long you wait, but it's at least an hour. Your butt is getting sore from sitting on the ground, but you can't bring yourself to get up. When the door finally opens, one look at Cass' face tells you her answer.

Cass, with her cocky smirks and confidence that left no room to be nervous. Cass, who was so sure you would win. Cass, who loves you and loves Brittany and her new life in New York. One look is all it took for you to know her choice. One look, and it feels like everything is collapsing around you.

Wearing a pained expression and with red rimmed eyes, Cass whispers to you and it feels like you can't breathe.

"Tía, I'm so sorry."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Due to the fact that I basically got ATTACKED for last chapter... I decided to take advantage of the short period before my classes get hectic and give you this before more threats involving Bartie (you know who you are) are thrown my way. Also because it is me and my girlfriend's 20 month anniversary. This is for you, babe! Hope you guys find this chapter alright! Thanks again for reading.

* * *

><p>It was true in both life and baseball, that when the game is on the line, it is best to clear one's mind. You learned long ago to expect the unexpected. But you have also learned that there are times when it is best to expect nothing at all.<p>

Life has thrown you many pitches. A few curveballs, some screwballs. Maybe even a changeup. It seems that with Brittany, life threw you a fastball right down the middle and you hit that fucker out of the park. You have learned to take these pitches as they come, and do your best, because there are moments when you think you might strike out to end the game, but instead you slam one to the fence, victorious.

But what about those moments, when the game is on the line, and you have no control over what happens. Those moments when you could either be the downcast loser, or the triumphant hero, but the outcome is not in your hands. Sometimes, you step up to the plate, clear your mind, and just when you think you've got the game in your hands… you are walked.

You expected the curveball from Sue Sylvester, trying to trip you up and throw you off your game. You expected the changeup from Attorney Matthews when he allowed Cass to choose who she would live with. You expected that fastball right down the middle that would mean Cass had chosen you. Homerun, game over, someone tell the fat lady to start singing.

But instead of that fastball in your powerhouse, Cass decided to take the ball in her own hands. And she walked you. She threw the ball so far out of your zone, you couldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Out of your control, unable to decide your own fate, you were walked. Just when you thought you could be the hero, she took the opportunity away from you.

And in the end… you lost.

You have learned that there are no losses more painful than the ones that come when victory was just within reach.

So that is why with one look at Cass, and hearing the word 'sorry' come out of her mouth, it feels like everything around you is crumbing to the ground. You had been prepared to lose Cass at the hands of Sue Sylvester. However, you were not prepared for the heartbreaking blow that Cass wouldn't _choose _you if it came down to it.

The next two days pass by in a strange, jaded daze. You aren't quite sure what is happening. People speak around you and you make decisions and have conversations, but none of them seem to matter, even though they probably matter more than anything has ever mattered to you before.

Cass decides to stay in Ohio now and you are supposed to send her stuff over to her later in the week. You drop her off at your mom's house a few hours before your flight back to New York. It has been an awkward day to say the least. Cass doesn't say much, but that's fine because you feel numb and don't know what to say to her anyway. What do you say when your family doesn't choose you? You didn't know what to say to your mom when you were seventeen, and you don't know what to say to Cass now.

You pull the rental car up to the curb outside your mom's new place and get Cass' duffle from the trunk. She's looking at the house apprehensively as you hand it to her. You guess this is the time for a goodbye or something, but you still don't know what to say. You shift uncomfortably on the sidewalk.

The two of you stand there for a minute, just staring at each other. Cass' big brown eyes are full of sadness and fear and you don't know what to do because it's not your fault she looks like that. She could've picked you and you'd be out celebrating right now. Why'd she have to make things so complicated?

Your phone buzzes out a reminder that you have to get going or you'll miss your flight. You clear your throat awkwardly. "So… I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

Cass avoids your eyes and nods. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Yeah." You take a deep breath and meet her eyes. "Good luck with everything. I'll send your stuff later this week."

"Okay." She looks at the ground and all you can think about is how you hate this.

Sighing, you offer her a small smile that she doesn't see. "Well, bye." You look at her one last time before giving up and walking around the back of the car toward the driver's side. You get in and start the ignition, desperate to hold back your tears. You put the car in drive and move to take your foot off the brake, but suddenly Cass jumps in front and puts her hands on the hood of the car.

"Tía, wait!"

You clamp your foot harder on the brake. "What are you doing?" You yell out. You almost ran her over, Jesus fucking Christ. You put the car back in park and get out. "What is your problem, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Cass bites her lip and steps toward you. "No, sorry, God. Just…" She looks at you awkwardly. "This is stupid."

You wait for her to continue, not really sure what she's referring to. Everything about this situation seems stupid to you. When she doesn't say anything, you feel a scowl take over your face. "Look, Cass, I have to go, I'm going to miss my flight."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her eyes are glued to her shoes again, but she finally looks up at you. "I just…" Her voice cracks and a few tears roll down her cheeks. She furiously wipes them away, but more trickle out. She hangs her head and a sob forces its way out of her mouth. Your heart breaks and you step forward and pull her into your arms. You feel her cling to you tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Tía." You can feel your shirt getting damp where her face is pushed into it. "I hope you don't hate me."

You close your eyes and inhale softly. "Baby girl, I could never hate you."

Cass chokes out another sob. "I hope you understand why I'm doing this. It's not because I don't love you."

You nod. "I know. I love you too."

Cass squeezes you tighter. "Please tell Britt that too. I love you guys so much." You nod, but don't say anything. It sucks because you shouldn't have to tell Brittany that. You understand why Cass is staying here, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I'll write to you and stuff," Cass croaks out, her voice crackly from crying.

"Okay." You kiss the top of her head and pull back. You should really go now.

Cass wipes under her eyes and looks at you again, a sad smile on her lips. "You're still my family," she whispers.

"Yeah, mine too." You hesitantly smile at her and pull her back in for another quick hug before pulling away again. "Bye Cass."

"Bye Tía."

You squeeze her arm and get back in the car. When you finally pull away from the curb and look in the rearview mirror, she's standing in the middle of the street watching you go.

That's when you lose it.

* * *

><p>Life without Cass is strange. You never realized how empty your apartment is without her to take up space. Brittany fills the corners with life, but it feels like something is missing. Everything in the place seems to act as a constant reminder to you that she's gone. Pastels haphazardly sit on the kitchen table. Your NYU hoodie is lazily draped over the back of the couch. Pancakes are often only eaten by you.<p>

Everything seems empty without her, but you feel like you're suffocating.

It's not too hard to pack up all of Cass' stuff. There isn't much. It fits in three cardboard boxes, all addressed to Columbus, Ohio. You're able to cram all of her clothes into two of the boxes. The last box holds all of her art stuff. You decide to put a note on the top canvas. _Don't forget who you are_, you write, because it's the only thing that seems to make sense in your head. You place Quinn's camera in the box too. Cass had given it back to you to give to her, but Quinn is making you send it back. You stick a note on that too. _From Quinn. She says she it's yours now._

You grab all her stuff and carry the boxes out to the front door so you remember to ship them tomorrow when you go out. Later, when you pass the couch, your eye catches your NYU hoodie. You throw it into the box, too.

It just doesn't really feel like yours anymore.

* * *

><p>Of course, life goes on without Cass. And truthfully, there are some good sides to her being gone. Like the fact that Brittany walks around in just a baggy t-shirt and her revealing panties now. Or how one night, she got home from working on the show while you were making dinner and dinner turned into having sex on the kitchen floor until you had to go to work.<p>

"San, come get in the bath with me."

Or like, when you take baths together now because there isn't the fear of Cass needing to come in to pee.

"Kay, one sec."

It's mid-February, and the last free Saturday before Brittany's show opens. You had just gone to the gym and when you'd gotten home, you'd found Brittany walking in the hallway with a towel wrapped around her. Needless to say, you were sweaty and definitely didn't need to be told twice. You strip down and grab your own towel before heading into the bathroom. Brittany has already started filling the tub and is sinking into it when you get there.

She smiles happily at you when you drop your towel and climb in front of her. You sigh in content at the feeling of her bare skin against your back. The water is slowly rising around you, bubbles floating on the surface. The smell of lavender wraps around your head, causing you to immediately relax and lean back into Brittany.

"I like baths," she murmurs into your ear.

You smile softly and close your eyes. "Me too." Her chest moves slowly as she inhales beneath you and you feel a soft puff of air hit your ear as she exhales. It's peaceful as you sync your breathing to hers.

The warm water laps at the top of your chest so reach your foot up and shut the tap off with your toe. Brittany giggles quietly behind you and places a kiss to your temple. It's nice.

You sit quietly for a few moments, allowing the tranquil atmosphere to ease you into a state of semi-consciousness. You realize it's the first time you've really let yourself relax since you returned from Ohio a few weeks ago. The thought makes you frown slightly and you sink into Brittany a little bit more. Her hands wrap around you from behind, settling on your stomach. You link your fingers together.

"What are you thinking about?" Brittany offers into the silence.

You turn your head so that your nose is nuzzling into her neck. Under the smell of lavender bubble bath, you detect the scent that is purely Brittany and you can't help but place a tiny kiss there. "Just… Cass, I guess."

Brittany makes a sound of acknowledgement, but doesn't say anything. You haven't really talked about the whole situation since you got home. She let you cry in her arms the first night after you explained what happened, but other than that, she hasn't mentioned it at all.

You sigh when she lifts your linked hands to her lips, kissing them softly. She sets them back on your stomach and you continue. "I get it, you know? She wants things to work out with her dad. If I could go back and do things differently with my mom then I would. I don't think it would make much difference, but you never know."

You feel Brittany's nose scrunch against the side of your face. "What do you mean?"

You shrug. "Well, I'd definitely try to ease into a conversation about me being gay, save her from the complete surprise and incredulousness she felt when she walked in on me kissing a girl."

Brittany snorts and you feel it ruffle your hair slightly. "That's how your mom found out you're gay?"

"Yeah." You turn your head to look up at her and see her blue eyes twinkling playfully. "What?"

"Who was the girl?"

You chuckle slightly. "I don't know her name."

"You what?" Brittany's chest moves beneath you with the force of her laughter.

"I was drunk, okay?" You try to sound defiant but a small laugh bubbles up your throat.

"And then what happened?" Brittany kisses your forehead and flashes you a toothy grin.

"Well her eyes got really big and she started yelling in Spanish. She grabbed the girl by the arm and dragged her out of the house and then came back and she threw a hanger at me."

"A hanger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, she just picked it up off the floor and flung it at me. Then she told me to get out and stormed away. I tried to chase her, but I tripped over my hamper and next thing I knew I was sitting on a curb somewhere with my duffle bag and throwing up in someone's yard."

Brittany's belly rumbles with laughter. "Oh my God. Sorry San. It's not funny, it's just… it's…" She trails off as another string of laughter escapes her.

You chuckle quietly. "It's pretty funny, actually," you say. "Like, in retrospect. I mean it felt like the world was ending at the time, but it's funny now. I'm sure I looked ridiculous when Rachel finally found me."

"Aww." Brittany kisses you again. "I bet you still looked beautiful."

You snort. "There's no way." The water sloshes around you as you continue to giggle softly.

"I bet you did. You're always beautiful."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not when I wake up in the morning."

Brittany smiles knowingly at you. "Especially then."

You smile and shake your head, resting your cheek against Brittany's wet skin. Everything feels perfect in this moment. The demons from your past are seemingly funny and the pain of Cass leaving trickles out of you like water down the drain. It still hurts, but you're understanding and accepting. Cass didn't leave you because she didn't love you. She stayed there because she loves her dad. Who are you to blame her for that? You can't just stop loving someone who means the world to you.

"Hey Britt-Britt?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

Brittany's arms squeeze you tight around the middle. "I love you too, sweetheart." One of her hands untangles itself from yours and you pout, before realizing that it's slowly sliding under the water and between your legs. You exhale sharply in anticipation.

"You're so beautiful, Santana," Brittany whispers in your ear. "You're flawless." A shiver runs down your spine despite the warm water that engulfs you like a blanket. Her fingers dip between your folds delicately and you feel your core start to throb. Panting slightly, you turn your head and Brittany meets your lips halfway.

Her lips slide against yours gracefully, carefully molding with yours like they're meant to fit together. The thumb still resting on your stomach gently caresses the skin beneath your hands while the fingers on her other hand slip up and down beneath the water. Your back arches slightly when she teases your entrance, but she pulls you impossibly tight against her chest.

"Don't tease, Britt-Britt," you whine. She giggles softly and brings your lips back together. Her thumb circles your clit and you gasp for breath, warm air melting into the space between your faces.

Blue eyes twinkle as Brittany dips a finger inside you, working you up. You'd be embarrassed of the whimper that escapes from between your clenched teeth, but it feels like you're floating, suspended on the top of the soapy bubbles that linger in the bath water. Brittany places kisses down the side of your neck as she pushes another finger in. You're ready, too ready, and you can feel heat bubbling inside you as a wave of water laps over the edge of the tub from the thrusting of Brittany's hand.

You don't want this moment to end, but you can't hold it back much longer. Your legs shudder uncontrollably and a gasp rips through you as you reach your climax. You moan into Brittany's neck as she brings you back from the high, grounding you in a way only she has ever been able to.

"Fuck," you breathe out.

Brittany giggles adorably. "Again?"

You nod. "Yeah. My turn. Just… in a second."

"Mmmkay." She places lazy kisses over your cheeks and neck and forehead as you try to bring your breathing back to normal. You feel Brittany's heart beating quickly against your back and you marvel at the sensation. You wonder how her heartbeat is so constant. Yours feels irregular, often skipping one or two beats as you try to slow it down. Brittany's thumps to a rapid beat, a melody inside her chest that sets the rhythm tethering Brittany to life. It is both strange and enchanting and fills you up with a fantastic sort of happiness that you've never quite experienced before.

You realize it's okay that one amazing person didn't choose you.

Because there is another equally perfect one that did.

* * *

><p>Cass sends you pictures. They come once a week. It's been three weeks. You don't really understand them and Cass never writes anything, just sends you an envelope with a picture tucked into it.<p>

The first one came the week after you returned home. It was of a ceiling fan. A light is in the center and brown fins branch off of it. The string that you pull to turn the light on hangs down awkwardly as if falling toward the camera. Sharp lights pierce in on the sides of the picture and a soft, unintelligible shadow dances across the ceiling.

The second picture is looking down. The focus is on a black mug, cracked into three pieces. Brown liquid that you assume to be coffee surrounds the cup, like a moat surrounding a castle. The dark colors offset the sharp white tile of the floor. All the angles seem too pointed and jagged and you truly don't understand why Cass would send you a picture of spilt coffee.

The third picture comes the day before Brittany's show. It's a landscape shot, centered on a tree. The trunk shoots into the air and ragged branches jut out haphazardly. They hang toward the ground forlornly, weighed down by clumps of snow. The atmosphere is gray and foggy and rivals the weather in New York. The picture is haunting, but beautiful in its own way.

All of the photos confuse you. Brittany doesn't understand them either. So you ask someone who might.

You watch Quinn shuffle through the pictures slowly as she sits at the table in your apartment. You invited her to hang out while Brittany was at school.

"So what do you think?" You ask after awhile. "Because I don't get it."

Quinn takes a sip of coffee as she lingers on the tree picture. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "I think Cass misses you."

"What?" You raise your eyebrows at her. "How'd you come to that conclusion?"

Quinn shrugs, her blonde hair shifting as she raises her shoulders. "These pictures are beautiful. But also very sad." She points to the one of the coffee spill. "This one is really deep, actually."

You gawk at her in confusion. "It's fucking coffee."

"Maybe Cass was feeling broken that day."

You look at the jagged edges of the shattered mug. "There's no way you can make that assumption from a random picture of a coffee cup."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's not random, S. Otherwise she would send them more than once a week. She's clearly taking pictures of things that seem meaningful to her."

You scoff. "Come on, Q. These are ordinary things. You can't expect me to look at that tree and think what… Cass feels weighed down? That's ridiculous."

"Is that what you got from that one?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "Hmmm that could be true. I thought it was more of a profound statement, but that's definitely possible."

"Seriously?" You point to the one of the ceiling fan. "What about that one, then?"

Quinn purses her lips in thought. "What week did she send that one?"

"The first week."

"Maybe she felt uncomfortable."

You stare at Quinn and then back at the picture. "You can't be serious."

"Sure I can." She looks at the coffee picture again. "Cass is an artist, Santana. She sees the world in a different way."

"This is bullshit." You don't know why you're getting angry, but you feel the unmistakable creeping of irritation settling uncomfortably in your stomach.

Quinn shrugs. "Don't get mad. You asked for my opinion."

You breathe in heavily. "Yeah, I know, sorry."

Quinn pushes the pictures away. "I'm hungry, let's get food." She grabs her jacket and you push away from the table, following her.

You chance a last glance at the pictures still scattered on the tabletop as you leave, the uncomfortable feeling burying itself inside your chest for now.

* * *

><p>You go to Brittany's show with Kurt and Quinn. The two of them get along quite well actually. You find yourself rolling your eyes on multiple occasions as they laugh together at a joke that you don't think is funny at all.<p>

You don't want to insult Rachel or anything, but Broadway is way cooler than her show was. The theatre is huge and the acting is flawless. Brittany's choreography is awesome and your chest swells with pride as the audience applauds enthusiastically after a particularly complex number.

You meet Brittany after the show and give her flowers. Her smile is infectious and you marvel at this amazing person who you get to call yours. You never thought you'd find yourself as a sap that's head over heels, but the world is full of surprises.

You go out to celebrate at Puckerman's. Brittany drags you to the dance floor immediately and you love the way her body feels against yours as it flows with the beat. It's getting you really hot and bothered and you definitely need a drink. You leave her to dance with Kurt as you slip away to the bar.

"Puckster! Tequila shots, asap!"

Puck smirks at you. "Going to get plastered on your night off?"

"Please, I can hold my liquor better than your pussy ass."

"In your dreams, bitch." He laughs and slides two shot glasses over to you. You throw them both back, wincing slightly at the burn.

You dance and drink for awhile before you decide you need a break. Brittany has a never ending supply of energy and you definitely can't keep up. You take a seat in the corner of the bar and Puck places a fruity drink in front of you. He doesn't tell you what it is, but it tastes like berries and vodka and is delicious. You watch Brittany and Quinn dance while sipping at your straw. It reminds you of the night you first saw them dancing and how they looked like they'd danced together before. You can definitely see the easy familiarity that comes with the ease of being with your best friend and letting go. It makes you smile.

You sit there for a long time, slurping up your drink enthusiastically. The world is becoming hazy and you feel that lazy dizziness fogging over your brain. You take out your phone to check the time. It's not too late yet, so you figure you should let Brittany have her fun for a little while longer. This is her night after all.

You giggle quietly to yourself as you spin your phone on the bar. Everything is starting to blur together and your phone looks like a cloud as it picks up speed. You spin it again, but accidentally fling it too close to the edge and it falls to the floor with a loud thunk. Shit.

You hop off your stool and bend down to pick it up, but something catches your eye. It's blue and skinny and you reach for it, feeling triumphant when your fingers curl around the object. You slide back on your stool and look at it. It's a light blue coloring pencil.

Through your haze, everything seems to slow down. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and the bass from the music reverberating through your body. The pencil rolls from your fingers and lands on the bar, skittering across the counter before hitting the wall and coming to a stop. You suddenly think you've had way too many drinks.

Arms wrap around your waist and it startles you. "Babe, come dance with me!" Blonde hair falls over your shoulder, but you can't make any sense of what's going on. You shake your head, whether to clear your mind or to decline the dancing offer, you're not sure.

"San?" Your stool spins and you come face to face with Brittany. Her blue eyes look smoky under the bar lights. "San, what's wrong?"

Your eyes flicker to Cass' pencil where it rests against the wall. "Huh?"

Cold hands press to your cheeks. "Babe, are you okay? You're really pale."

You try to answer that you're fine, but everything is tilting and the bar lights are melting together and blue is flashing across your eyes, bright and sharp. You close your eyes and lay your head on the bar, willing the feeling away.

"What's wrong with her?" The voice is feminine, but you can't tell if it belongs to Quinn or Kurt.

"I don't know." There is a shuffling behind you and then a voice too loud in your ear. "Puck! How many drinks did she have?"

A grunting noise reaches your ears but you don't look up. You think you might be sick. "A few. Not enough to overwhelm her. She was somewhere between tipsy and drunk like, three minutes ago. She just kept spinning her phone on the bar."

Gentle hands stroke through your hair, and you wish they'd stop talking about you. You're right here. "Santana, sweetheart, do you want to go home?"

You murmur out that you're fine, but you're not quite sure Brittany understood you. Your face is smashed flush against the bar top.

You can hear Brittany talking to someone, but can't make out what she's saying. It's reaching you in fragments. "…Long day… take her home… be fine… thanks Q." Hands reach under your armpits and drag you off the stool. You keep your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them you'll throw up.

You feel lips against your neck, soft and quick. Brittany whispers in your ear. "San, can you walk? We need to go home." You cling to her shirt and try to stand steady on your shaky legs. "Okay, let's go."

Brittany leads you a few steps before you start to panic. The pencil! You have to get it! What if Cass needs you to send it to her? You wrench away from Brittany's grasp and open your eyes. The world has stopped spinning slightly and your eyes zero in on the pencil. You stumble over to it and grab it between your fingers.

"Babe, what are you doing?" Brittany's hand is steady on your back and you look around for the first time in minutes. Puck, Quinn, and Kurt are all staring at you.

"Pencil…" You gurgle out, wishing your throat wasn't so dry. You hold it out for Brittany to see.

"Where did you get that?" Brittany's voice wavers and takes on a concerned edge.

"Floor."

You glance between your friends and are confused. Why are they looking at you like that? They're all wearing the same expression, somewhere between worried and incredulous. It makes you feel shaken, like you should have a sticker that says FRAGILE stuck to your forehead.

"Cass." You clutch the pencil tighter.

Brittany raises her eyebrows. "What about Cass?"

"Take to her!" You stare at Brittany defiantly. Why doesn't she understand?

She purses her lips. "Okay. Let's get you home." You huff indignantly. "See you guys later," Brittany says to the others. She puts your arm around her shoulders and holds you up.

Everything is fuzzy as you slowly allow yourself to be led back to the apartment. You focus on the pencil in your hand and how it digs into your skin sharply. You're exhausted when Brittany finally pulls your pants off and tucks you into bed. Sleep is tugging at the corners of your eyes. You feel your hands unclench and the sharp point against your palm is gone. You're too tired to notice.

That night you dream of ceiling fans and broken mugs that leak out blue coffee.

* * *

><p>The fourth picture comes a few days later.<p>

It's a row of tan lockers. One stands open at the end and the hinges hang on an awkward angle. It's dented in the middle and your first thought is that it looks bent out of shape.

You look at the other pictures, scattered on the kitchen table, and the anger boils in your stomach again. You clutch the picture tighter and grab your jacket, walking swiftly all the way to Puck's. Nobody is behind the bar so you slump down on a stool and wait. Puck walks out from the back after a few minutes and looks at you in shock.

"Santana? What are you doing here? Your shift starts at eight."

You scoff at him. "I know that. I just wanted a drink."

"Now?"

"No, in three hours." You roll your eyes. "Yes, now!"

Puck runs a hand through his Mohawk. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Just give me a damn beer, Puckerman." He eyes you warily before setting a bottle of Bud in front of you. "Thanks." He looks like he wants to say something, so you avoid his eyes. You don't want to talk about it. He gets the hint and returns to the back where he's probably doing inventory.

You look around as you sip your beer. There aren't many people in the bar, considering it's only lunchtime. The only people who come in at this time are depressed people and alcoholics. Usually they go hand in hand.

You're three beers in (which Puck had reluctantly given to you) when someone sits in the seat next you. You groan when you recognize blonde hair.

"What are you doing here, Quinn?"

She raises an eyebrow at you. "Getting a drink. What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

She shrugs. "I'm taking a break." She motions to Puck and he gives her a beer and a chaste kiss on the lips. You almost vomit right then and there.

You sit in silence for a few minutes before Quinn sighs. "Fine. Puck told me you were here. What's wrong?"

You shrug and ignore her. You don't need to be babysat.

"Brittany won't like that you're drinking in the middle of the day."

You roll your eyes. "Since when does it matter what time of day you have a drink? Just because someone has a drink in the middle of the day doesn't make them an alcoholic."

"She's worried about you."

"I'm fine!" You snap.

Quinn hums disapprovingly. "Right."

Your empty bottle clunks loudly as you set it on the bar. "Really, though."

"Then why are you here?"

You sigh and pull the most recent picture out of your pocket, handing it to Quinn. She carefully takes it between her fingers. "It's not fair," you whisper.

Her hazel eyes flicker over to you. "What's not?"

You shift in your seat. "That." You point to the picture. "That Cass can send pictures and feel broken and bent out of shape and all that shit." Sighing, you clench your fingers in and out. "She chose this. I'm the one who is supposed to broken, but I'm fine and she's not."

Quinn nods slowly in understanding and takes your hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. "She'll be okay."

"What if she's not?"

Quinn bites her lip. "I don't know."

You sigh. "This fucking sucks."

"Yeah." Quinn downs her drink and calls to Puck. "Babe, we need more beer. Now!"

You watch as Puck scurries to obey and it's obvious he's completely whipped. Quinn smiles and taps her bottle against yours, a smirk on her lips.

You've never loved Quinn Fabray more than in that moment.

* * *

><p>A Wednesday the next week has you expecting a letter, but it doesn't come. You shuffle through the mail confused as you try to shake the rain from your hair. It's storming like crazy out and you jump when a loud clap of thunder rattles your apartment. You definitely aren't going out for groceries. You can order pizza tonight.<p>

It's evening and Brittany should be coming home soon. You order the pizza and smile when your phone buzzes with a text as soon as you hang up.

**Brittany:** Leaving work now. It's raining like crazy.

**You:** I know. Just ordered pizza. Be safe.

**Brittany:** Will do. Love you.

**You:** Love you too, see you in a few.

You tidy up the apartment as you wait for Brittany and the pizza to get here. Lightning flashes through the sky and you shiver slightly. You hate storms. There's a knock on the door and you grab your money. You fling open the door, expecting the delivery guy, but your eyes go wide with shock and your wallet falls to the floor.

"Cass?"

She smiles meekly up at you. "Hey Tía."

You open and close your mouth in surprise. She's soaking wet, her dark hair sticking to her face and clothes weighed down with rain. Her giant duffle bag sits on the ground at her feet, drops of water rolling off of it.

"What are you doing here?"

She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, I just…" She looks at you sadly. "If you don't want me to be here, I can leave."

"What?" Your forehead scrunches in confusion. "No, come in! You're soaked." You grab her duffle bag and pull her in by the arm. She's shivering in her light sweater and jeans. "Are you hungry? I just ordered pizza."

"I… yeah, I guess." She looks at you, confused.

"What?"

"Are you mad that I'm here?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "No why would I be mad? I'm kind of confused… but not mad."

"Oh." Her teeth chatter as she looks at you sadly.

"Why don't you change and then we can talk?" You smile at her softly.

She nods and grabs her duffle bag, dragging it down the hall to her old room. There's another knock on the door, and this time, it really is the pizza guy. When you walk back to the couch, pizza box in hand, Cass has returned. She's in sweats and your NYU hoodie. Ringlets of wet hair still cling to her face. You sit down next to her on the couch.

"So…" You begin. "What are you doing here?"

She plays with her fingers before looking up at you nervously. "I called Holly and she talked to Attorney Matthews and stuff. I can move back here if I want."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She pauses and her eyes turn pleading. "I really want to."

"Why, what happened?"

She shrugs. "I… I don't know. It doesn't matter." You don't say anything and she stands up suddenly. "This was a stupid idea. I should've called. I can go."

"No!" You grab her arm and pull her back down on the couch. "It's raining, you can't go out there." You look at her incredulously as a thought occurs to you. "How did you even get here?"

"I used the money from my jar. It was enough for a one way plane ticket and a cab ride here."

"Oh." You don't really know what to say.

"Yeah." She shrugs. "I can leave tomorrow, if you want."

You quirk an eyebrow. "I thought you were moving back here."

Her mouth opens in surprise. "I was. I mean… I am. I mean… shit." She runs a hand across her face. "Only if you want me to."

You smile playfully. "Well, I'm not sure where else you would go. If you bought a one way ticket, it seems you might be stuck here."

Cass lets out a short laugh. "I didn't really think that one through." She shrugs sheepishly.

You grab her hand and lock your fingers together. "We're family remember?"

She nods and a drop of water slides across her forehead. "Yeah." She smiles hopefully. "Does that mean I can come back home?"

You nod. "Of course you can."

Her brown eyes light up and she hugs you tightly. "I'm sorry, Tía. I should've picked you from the beginning. I'm so stupid."

You squeeze her tightly before pulling back. "It's okay. I understand. You love your dad." She nods and her smile drops. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"I… kind of." She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay." You open the box on the coffee table and offer her a piece of pizza. She bites into it hungrily. The door opens and your head snaps over to look at Brittany, who is shaking off a yellow umbrella.

"It's ridiculous out there, San. I'm frozen."

"B!" You stand up excitedly. "Look who's back!"

"What? Is there pizza, San, I'm starv-" Brittany stops when she sees Cass on the couch. "Cass?"

"Uh… Hi, Britt." Cass smiles at her.

Brittany looks between you and Cass. "What's going on?"

"Cass is moving back!" Your body inflates with happiness at the thought.

"You are?" Brittany asks Cass.

Cass nods. "If that's okay with you."

"Of course it's okay, right Britt?" You look at Brittany, whose mouth is set in a thin line. "Britt?"

"What the fuck, Cass. You think you can just come right back into our lives and everything will be okay?" Brittany crosses her arms angrily. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Britt, what's wrong?"

She looks at you incredulously. "She can't just come back! She chose to live in Ohio. She didn't choose us. And now what, just because things got hard with grandma she thinks she can just waltz right back in here and everything will be fine?" Brittany throws her arms in the air. You've never seen her this angry before.

"Of course she can come back!" You stare at your girlfriend, confused. Cass shifts uncomfortably next to you. "What's the matter, B?"

She motions between you and Cass. "She hurt you, Santana! She didn't pick us. You're just letting her back in after she fucked with your heart?"

You shake your head. "B, come on. You can't blame her for wanting to try again with her dad."

"Maybe I should go…" Cass murmurs from behind you.

You whip around. "No, you're staying here."

Brittany throws her arms up again. "This is bullshit." She glares at you before spinning around and storming into your bedroom. The door slams loudly behind her.

You and Cass stare at each other before you put your head in your hands. Then you sit down on the couch and rip off a bite of pizza. Brittany will get over it eventually.

Cass watches you carefully. "Really, Tía. I can leave."

You shake your head. "She's fine. You're staying here." You turn to her. "I'm really glad you're back."

She shoots you a small smile. "Me too." You eat in silence and leave a few pieces of pizza for Brittany, but she still hasn't emerged from your bedroom.

"Do you have to work tonight?" Cass asks you as you're cleaning up.

You shake your head. "No, it's my night off."

Cass nods. "Cool. I guess I'm going to go to bed. It's been a long day."

"Okay."

Cass wraps her arms around you again. "Thanks," she whispers.

"You're welcome."

She smiles at you and escapes down the hall. You sigh and decide to go talk to Brittany. You walk to your bedroom, but when you try to open the door, it's locked. You roll your eyes in annoyance.

It looks you're sleeping on the couch tonight.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Hi guys, sorry I haven't updated in awhile. One, I had awful writer's block, and two, I've been trying to update for the past day and FF keeps doing that. "Sorry, your session has timed out..." thing and wouldn't let me upload! I was getting so pissed. Anyway, here's the next installment. It's shorter than usual, but this story is beginning to wrap up, so it's easing back down. Hope you guys like it._  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>You're running up a mountain, legs pumping, heart racing. You don't know what's at the top, but you have to get there. Bad things will happen if you don't. Your legs jump over branches and rocks on instinct and you feel graceful for once in your life. You were made to run up this mountain.<em>

_You're so close to the top. Just a few a more bounds, a leap over a small stream, the peak is in sight. You look to your left where someone is running a few feet away. You know this person, you can feel the vague tug of recognition, but they are too far away for you to see their face. Then the person looks over and smiles at you._

"_Maria?" What is your sister doing on this mountain?_

_She shoots you a smile and keeps running. You force your legs to push harder. She's waving at you from the top of the mountain and you have to get there. You have to ask her why she's on the mountain with you. You're almost there. A few more steps._

_Maria gives you a sad look. "I'm sorry!" She yells, but it's not the voice you remember from so many years ago._

"_What?" You're only one step away from the top now._

"_I said I was sorry!"_

The voice pulls at the blackness of your eyes, but you desperately cling to unconsciousness. You were having such a weird dream…

"Please Britt, I'm really sorry!"

You groan and roll over, frantically searching for your dream place again. The clink of cutlery attempts to crash through your half-asleep state.

"Look, Cass, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react so… I got caught up in the moment. I was just really surprised. I expected to come home to Santana and pizza and instead, there you were."

"I know, I feel really shitty. I should've called."

"Yeah, that probably would've been a smart decision."

There's a pause in the noise floating to your ears and you use it to try and drift back to the blackness. The sound of something sizzling on the stove makes you shiver. You just want to sleep.

"I'm not… that was really rash of me to say you can't stay here. You can. I just… you really hurt Santana, Cass."

"I know, I'm really stupid."

"You're not stupid. You made a decision based on what you needed to do, and that's really good. You're going to have to make hard choices like that all your life. You just have to realize the consequences of your actions."

Cass' voice is tiny when she replies. "I do. I feel so bad."

The clunk of something being set on the counter hurts your ears. You wish people were more considerate of the fact that you're sleeping. Or half sleeping. Or… whatever.

"Santana will forgive you, don't worry."

"I know. But what about you?"

There's a long lull in the conversation and you sink further into the softness under you. Your eyes feel so heavy.

"I just don't get it. Why did you leave?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Well, I'm not stupid so try." Brittany's raised voice almost pulls you to consciousness, but you're putting up a pretty good fight.

"Your family isn't like ours, okay? Sure, maybe your dad is a little uptight, but he loves you. Santana and I, we don't have people who care about what we do with our lives."

"Santana cares about you. If what you're saying is true, then what's the point of leaving someone who loves you?"

"I made a mistake, Britt. I thought I could mend what I had with my dad, alright?"

"Why are you back?"

"It doesn't matter. I fucked things up."

"It matters."

"No, what matters is how much I fucked it up with Santana." The sound of your name has your eyes fluttering open. You blink slowly and suddenly realize that Cass and Brittany are arguing in the kitchen. Should you say something? Or maybe you could slip into your room unnoticed… You distantly hear the soft whoosh of the fridge opening and closing.

"Well what about me, Cass?"

"What about you?"

Pause.

"You didn't even say goodbye."

A loud cough – or was it a sob? – grates against your eardrums. You suddenly wish you were asleep for reasons other than because you're tired.

"I didn't think I'd be able to leave if I did."

"So, what you think avoiding it makes it any better?"

"No, Britt."

"I thought you were coming home. You were supposed to come home."

"Britt." Cass' voice cracks. You feel like you're intruding on a conversation that you aren't supposed to hear. You stay quiet and hope they don't realize you're awake.

"I thought… you really…" You hear a sharp exhale. "I haven't felt like this since Lord Tubbington died. And like, you're not a cat and you don't have feline AIDS and I'm pretty sure he's up there with Jesus so it's okay. But it just feels like that moment when you're going down the stairs and you think there's one more step but there isn't so your foot gets all jarred against the floor and it feels like your stomach is pushing itself up your chest."

There's a long pause.

"I really missed you, B."

"Yeah," Brittany sighs. "I missed you, too."

"I'm so sorry I hurt you." Cass' voice sounds muffled and you chance a peek over the top of the couch and see Brittany squeezing the girl tight to her chest. You dip your head back down before they see you.

"Just… just don't leave again, alright?"

They're quiet for a few moments and you take the time to discreetly stretch out your muscles and joints. Fuck you're sore. Damn couch. You decide that while you're happy that Cass is back and Brittany isn't going to throw her out (or leave), you're mad at Britt for making you sleep on the couch. Like, what the fuck is that about?

You stand up and try to quietly tip toe your way to the bedroom. You almost make it before you get caught. "Santana?" Brittany's voice reaches your ears. Shit.

You whip around and see the two of them standing side by side and giving you a confused look. You roll your eyes. "Look, I'm glad you guys worked it out and shit, but you woke me up and I'm fucking tired and my back hurts like a bitch from the couch so I'm going back to sleep. In my bed." You shoot Brittany a glance before turning on your heel and disappearing into your room. You slip in between the sheets and relax into the warmth there. You smile because your pillow smells like Brittany. Then you remember you're mad at her and force the smile off your face and close your eyes. You're going back to sleep, dammit.

You're drifting back into unconsciousness when you hear the door quietly open. The familiar sounds of Brittany getting ready soothe you and you feel yourself slipping back into dreamland. You feel the bed dip next to you.

"San."

Ugh what, you're trying to sleep. You make a noise in the back of your throat.

"Santana."

"Hmmm."

"I love you." You feel Brittany's lips on your cheek and almost smile, but decide you're still grumpy.

"I'm mad at you," you mumble out.

Brittany laughs lightly, like she doesn't believe you in your groggy state. "Okay. I'll see you after work then." The pressure on the bed lessens and you blindly reach out, your eyes still closed. You feel the rough fabric of jeans between your fingers and grip tightly.

"Love you, too," you murmur, before letting your grasp on Brittany's pants loosen. You squint your heavy eyes open and Brittany smiles before leaning down and pressing her lips to yours.

"I'm sorry I made you sleep on the couch. I overreacted." Brittany whispers against your lips.

"S'okay." You struggle to keep your eyes locked on vibrant blue. "You can make it up to me later."

"Okay." Brittany kisses you again and you finally close your eyes. Her cool fingers leave your cheek and you settle back down under the covers and finally relax enough to drift back to sleep.

* * *

><p>When you gently ease back into consciousness later, the first thing you notice is the off-gray color of your dark room. You breathe out a sigh and see it's a little past noon. After cracking your neck and stretching your arms above your head, you roll out of bed and peek out the window to see snowflakes fluttering through the air, like cottonwood in the wind. The image has you shivering in your tank top and shorts so you pull on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweats. Then you shuffle to the kitchen, intent on making a strong pot of coffee.<p>

The second thing you notice, as you lean against the counter with a warm mug between your hands, is the exaggerated stillness in the air. You can't quite figure out why it's out of place, but your apartment feels extra… empty. You uneasily sink into the couch and turn on the TV, brow furrowed. Then you notice your NYU hoodie rolled into a ball in the corner of the couch and the emptiness makes sense. Cass isn't here. You furrow your eyebrows and whip out your phone.

**You:** Where are you?

You flip through the channels on the TV until a reply comes a few minutes later.

**Cass:** School.

Another text follows immediately.

**Cass:** Britt took me and we talked to the principal and got everything situated. Be home in a little bit.

Well. That's weird. You shrug and burrow deeper into the couch to watch Rachael Ray. You have to admit that you find her pretty hot. You've seen those pictures of her in FHM when you were trolling the net. Yum-o. You chuckle at your own humor, content to spend the snowy day on the couch with coffee and hot chefs.

A few hours later, the door opens and you hear annoyed grumbling from the entryway. You perk your ears up when the voice grows louder. "Tía?"

"Yeah?"

Cass migrates into your line of vision. "Hey. What's up?"

You shrug. "Watching a Rachael Ray marathon thing."

Cass snorts. "Rachael Ray sucks." She slumps on the couch next to you and steals the remote.

"She's hot."

"Gross." Cass changes it to some weird show you've never seen before where little girls are screaming at their psychotic mothers on the screen.

"What the fuck is this?"

She smirks. "Toddlers and Tiaras."

"This shit is stupid." You steal the remote back and change it to MTV. Jersey Shore you can handle.

"Whatever."

"You're whatever."

"Good one."

You roll your eyes. "So… school? That was fast. You just got back."

She shrugs. "I wanted to get back to normal. Plus I had a killer idea for my art project and I needed to start over as soon as possible if I want to finish on time."

"What's your idea?" You ask curiously.

"Can't tell you."

You look at her. "Why not?"

"I don't want to jinx it." She meets your eyes. "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm superstitious."

"That's super lame." You raise an eyebrow at her.

"It's not lame!" She gestures wildly with her hands. "I've had bad experiences in the past! A lot of artists have superstitions and I don't want-" She cuts off and digs in her pocket, pulling out her phone. She looks at it curiously before answering. "Hello?" You watch as her eyebrows furrow before her brown eyes meet yours and widen. "Oh. Hi."

_Who is it?_ You mouth at her. She shakes her head and stands up, moving over to the hall. You watch her back and strain your ears to hear what she's saying.

"No… _No_. You told me this was better."

You raise your eyebrows at her angry tone.

"Of course she did." There's a pause and you assume the other person is talking. "Well, she did… No. _Pap__í_, escúchame."

Your eyes widen. Cass is talking to Roberto. Shit.

"No. I'm not coming back. You said this was best, remember…. Sí… No es importante… Sí, ella es mi familia, papí."

The words float through the air and to your ears and you can't help thinking that you've unintentionally eavesdropped a lot today…

"Sí. Bye, Papí." You hear Cass sigh loudly before she's back in your sights and flopping down on the couch again. You wait for her to explain, but she doesn't say anything so you just stare at her. Eventually she looks at you and quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

"Is everything okay?" You ask tentatively.

"Yeah, everything's perfect." The smile she flashes at you tells you she isn't lying so you decide not to pry. Then Cass laughs and pushes your shoulder before taking back the remote and changing it back to her weird show. You roll your eyes and scowl, but you can't help the tiny smile that twitches at the corners of your lips. You're really glad she's back.

* * *

><p>Snow flurries around you as you step out of the subway station and you pull your jacket closer. You're cold as fuck and really confused and it's all Brittany's fault.<p>

She texted you before her show started and told you not to eat dinner and to show up at some address you don't recognize at eleven. And to wear your hottest bikini. Top that off with a winky face and now you're curiosity is raging as you walk down the street and stop in front of a large windowless building. You check to make sure you have the right address before cautiously pushing open the door.

You step into a large lobby with an empty receptionist desk right in front of you. Taped to the desk is a piece of paper emblazoned with bold lettering.

SANTANA, UPSTAIRS!

An arrow pointing to the left is under the words and you look over and see a set of stairs. You look back at the paper before shrugging and making your way over to the stairs, both curious and confused. You feel the music before you hear it. A loud bass reverberates in your bones and a heavy beat reaches your ears. As you reach the landing, you see a door in front of you and slowly push it open. You let out a quiet laugh at the scene in front of you.

Brittany is dancing to a loud hip hop song, gracefully pop n locking and rolling her hips. She's wearing baggy sweats that sit low on her hips and a sports bra. A hat sits backwards on her head and she fingers the brim as she bends low and pops out her legs before jumping back up in time to the beat. A sheen of sweat glistens off her body and you think your mouth might have started watering. Fuck, she's sexy.

Brittany's teeth flash in a bright smile as the song dies and she ends with a slide across the floor. You bring your hands together in a slow clap. She looks up startled before a large smile breaks over her face. She walks over to the stereo and shuts it off and you admire the way her shoulders flex as she bashfully scratches her neck and looks at you.

"Hey you."

You smile at her and nod your chin. "Sup gangsta."

Brittany rolls her eyes, but chuckles good-naturedly. "Shut up." She tosses her hat into the corner of the room and then her arms fall around your neck. You lift up on your toes and kiss her softly. She sighs into your lips.

"So…" You begin when she pulls back. "What's going on?"

Her fingers twist your hair around and she smiles slightly. "I felt guilty all day about making you sleep on the couch." Her blue eyes find yours and you fight the urge to melt into them. "So I'm making it up to you."

"Okay…"

She grabs your hand and tugs. "Follow me." She leads you out of the room and turns left. Then she walks down a hall and opens another door, pulling you inside. You look around confused. It looks like one of those trainer rooms. There's an exercise bike in the corner and a few tubs for ice baths. Athletic tape and knee braces are stocked up on a counter against the wall. A large hot tub bubbles in the back. In the middle of the floor, a blanket is spread out and take-out boxes are set up in the center.

"You hungry?" Brittany asks you, and your heart melts slightly at her enthusiasm. You nod and she pulls you down on the blanket. She sits next to you and grabs one of the take-out boxes and hands it to you with some chopsticks. Her cheeks are red when she looks up at you. It's unbearably cute. "I got sesame chicken. I know it's your favorite."

Your stomach growls and you eagerly open the box. Delicious aromas drift through the air and you watch on in amusement as Brittany's forehead crinkles when she attempts to use chopsticks. You chuckle and she looks at you embarrassed.

"Here." You take a piece of chicken between your chopsticks and lift it up to her mouth. She smiles cutely at you as her lips close around the food.

"I suck at chopsticks," she says after she swallows.

You giggle and grab her hand. "I'll teach you." You position her fingers around the sticks and show her how to properly pinch them together so that she can hold pieces of chicken between them. She tries to feed you, but the chicken falls to the blanket halfway to your mouth.

"Oops," Brittany says and you burst out laughing. She tries again and is successful this time. You feed each other until half the chicken is gone and the other half is on the floor. Your stomach hurts from laughing and Brittany's face is bright red.

"Stop laughing at me."

You smile and shake your head. "Sorry babe, you're just like, ridiculously cute." Brittany pouts and you pull her bottom lip between your teeth. "Don't pout."

She smiles against your lips before nipping at them with her teeth. You kiss slowly and your hand goes to pull Brittany closer when you realize she's still only wearing her sports bra. Then you remember you're wearing your bikini top.

"Britt-Britt?"

"Hmmm?" Brittany mumbles from your neck where her lips have migrated.

"Why am I wearing my swim suit?"

Brittany pulls back and her eyes twinkle brightly. "Oh yeah!" She stands up and holds her hands out to you. You grab them and she pulls you up. Then she leads you over to the hot tub.

You smirk. "Are we going skinny dipping?"

The corners of her lips twitch as she shakes her head. "No. That's why I told you to wear your bikini."

"We're not getting naked?" You pout and she rolls her eyes.

"Santana."

"What? When you said you'd make it up to me later, I thought you were implying that we'd be getting naked!" You don't think that's an unreasonable assumption.

Brittany sighs and shakes her head. "We can still do that later. At home."

"Why not here?" You whine.

"This is a widely used hot tub and I'm not contaminating it because then I'll have to clean it." Brittany tugs at your shirt and you lift your arms up so she can pull it over your head.

You groan in defeat. "Fine. Where are we anyway?"

Brittany ties her hair up in a messy bun as you pull down your jeans. "This is the studio Jesse uses for the dancers to stay in shape and practice the choreography off stage."

"Oh." You climb into the hot tub and slowly lower yourself into the water. Brittany tugs off her sweatpants so that she's only in her sports bra and underwear. Then she follows you into the water, letting out a sigh as she relaxes.

"Yeah. Come here." She motions for you to move in front of her and you sit between her legs. Her hands come up to your shoulders and start kneading the knots that you can imagine have taken up a long term residence there. You sigh in content, unable to remember the last time you had a massage.

"That feels nice."

You feel Brittany smile behind you. "It's supposed to. I feel really bad for making you sleep on the couch."

"Mmm." You relax further into her touch and change the subject. You don't really care anymore. "How was the show tonight?"

Brittany places a kiss on your shoulder and continues the massage. "It was okay. Same as usual." You nod and exhale sharply as Brittany's thumb presses into an extra sensitive spot on your neck. "What's Cass doing?"

"I ordered her pizza and told her she better not leave." You laugh at the memory. "She told me that she was glad I was leaving because then she could work on her art project without me trying to interfere."

Brittany chuckles lightly in your ear. "She doesn't like people to look before she's finished with her stuff."

You roll your eyes. "Or ever."

Brittany nods against your shoulder. "Yeah."

You turn to look at her. "I'm glad she's here."

Brittany flashes you a smile. "Me too. I'm sorry I freaked out."

"It's okay."

"I just…" Her eyes look deep into yours and you shift slightly at the intensity. "I was mad. She left and didn't even come back to say goodbye and like, made you really sad, and I didn't like that." Her eyes glance away before looking back at you. "It freaked me out when you were like that." Her arms wrap tightly around your middle and you lean your head against her shoulder.

"Sorry," you whisper.

She shrugs. "It's fine now." She looks down at you. "Right?"

You nod. "Yeah." You reach up to smooth the wrinkle in Brittany's forehead and brush her bangs to the side. It strikes you again how beautiful she is and how in love with her you are. The feeling punches you in the stomach. Will you ever get used to it? "I love you," you murmur out.

"I love you too." Brittany smiles and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes and sit in silence, the only sound in the room coming from the water bubbling around you. After a moment, Brittany breaks the quiet atmosphere. "San."

"Hmmm?"

"I was thinking…" Brittany trails off nervously and you open your eyes to look at her. Her gaze is fixated on the bubbles under her hands as she rests them carefully above the water. She clears her throat. "I mean. If you want to, I was thinking that we should like… you know, combine our bank accounts."

Your eyes widen. "You mean like, get a joint account?"

Brittany nods and bites her lip, avoiding your eyes.

You tilt your head to the side curiously. "What made you think of that?"

"Well, yesterday I was out getting milk for the apartment and I had this thought that it was weird that I always buy milk and you always buy wine because wine is more expensive and that's not fair because we both drink it and Cass drinks the milk and I don't know it's really stupid…" Brittany rambles on before trailing off. You stare at her adorableness when her cheeks turn red again. "Never mind. It was stupid."

You chuckle to yourself. "I don't think that's stupid."

Brittany looks up at you, her expression disbelieving. "You don't?"

You shake your head. "Bitch totally drinks all the milk." Brittany smiles weakly, but doesn't say anything. "I think that's a good idea."

"You do?" Brittany's voice is tiny and you kiss her lips gently.

"Yeah."

"Oh." Brittany laughs nervously and you mirror her bright smile. Then she clears her throat. "Also, because… well, Jesse pays me a ridiculously high amount and I really want to help with Cass' college fund."

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. "What?"

Brittany shrugs. "I want to put some of my salary into the account you set up for her."

"Britt, you don't have to do that."

"I know." She smiles softly at you. "But I want to." You're at a loss for words and Brittany just smiles and kisses you quickly. "Santana. Stop thinking and just say yes." She nudges your noses together.

You open and close your mouth before you're finally able to murmur out an, "Okay."

"Okay." Brittany presses her lips to yours again and you kiss softly until the skin on your fingers prunes and goes numb.

You think your heart goes a little numb too.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is okay?" Cass looks at you apprehensively and you roll your eyes.<p>

"Yeah, come on." You grab her hand and pull her farther down the street. "It's not like you haven't done it before."

Cass sighs and falls into step beside you. "Yeah, but it feels different now."

"It's not." You stop in front of Puckerman's. "Plus, it's Friday, so no school tomorrow."

Cass nods slowly. "Yeah…" She grabs your arm as you go to open the door. "Puck's not like… mad at me or anything, is he?"

You raise your eyebrows at her. "No…" Her expression changes to one of relief. "Although he doesn't know you're back either."

"What about Quinn?"

You shrug. "I don't know what Brittany told her."

She glances from you to the door of the bar before nodding. "Okay."

You roll your eyes. "Awesome, because I'm almost late." You pull the door open and step into the warmth of the bar. Cass follows you in, but you separate after that; you behind the bar, Cass to her back corner. Finn nods at you, but doesn't say anything about the return of your mini-look-a-like.

You fill up a glass with Coke and place it in front of Cass. She has her backpack up on the bar and is fiddling with the camera Quinn gave her. A flash blinds you and you scowl at her. She smirks at you. "That was actually a really good one."

"See what happens if that thing goes off in my face again." You glare at her bemused expression. Then her eyes widen and you feel a hand clamp down on your shoulder.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

You turn and are met with Puck's signature smirk.

Cass nods her chin up. "Sup Puck."

"Little Satan." You roll your eyes, but Cass laughs. "Didn't think I'd ever see your face in here again."

Cass' eyes twinkle playfully. "Well, I didn't think so either, but I missed your ugly mug too much to stay away."

Puck barks out a laugh. "Admit it, chica, you think I'm sexy." Puck wiggles his eyebrows. "If you were ten years older, you'd want all up on this."

Cass quirks an eyebrow. "I wouldn't go near that with a twenty-foot pole."

You laugh as Puck feigns being offended. "Funny, I seem to remember your aunt saying the same thing. What is with you Lopez's?"

"We have good taste," Cass smirks.

Puck nods. "I'll say. Have you seen that hottie your aunt's tapping?"

Cass' nose scrunches. "Okay, I get enough of that visual at home, thanks."

"Just sayin'." Puck flashes a toothy grin. You smile back at him, but another flash makes bright lights pop behind your eyes.

"Cass!" You make a grab for the camera, but she laughs and holds it so that you can't reach it with the bar in between you.

"Hey, be careful with my camera!"

You whip around and are met with a playful grin and soft green eyes. "Q?"

"Santana."

"Quinn!"

"Cass!"

"Babe?"

"Hello, Noah." Quinn laughs at the expression on everyone's faces. Cass grins ecstatically and you guess that the look on your face is a mix between confusion and disgust at the utter look of adoration on Puck's face. Ew. Puck places a gentle kiss on Quinn's lips and you seriously almost throw up.

"Babe what are you doing here?"

Quinn shrugs. "Just thought I'd stop by. However, I didn't expect to see _this_," Quinn points at Cass, "scoundrel treating my camera like it's some silly disposable Kodak."

Cass blushes slightly. "Sorry, Quinn." She sets the camera on the bar with a sheepish smile.

"Whatever. You can make it up to me by coming by my office after school on Monday."

"Yes, finally." You grin at Quinn. "Please show this bitch some discipline."

Cass snorts. "Seriously, Tía? If you wanted to show me discipline, you would have done it already. From the way Britt screams at night, I'd swear you were giving her a… _spanking_." She wiggles her eyebrows on the last word and you hold back the mortified groan that was about to leave your mouth. Puck guffaws next to you and Quinn looks somewhere between amused and uncomfortable. You kind of want to die.

"Didn't need to know that," Quinn mutters before turning back to Cass. "Anyway, what I was saying was that if you want, you can start that internship that we talked about.."

Cass nods enthusiastically. "I'd like that."

"Great." Quinn flashes her perfectly straight teeth. Then she looks over at Puck. "Sweetie, get me a beer?"

Puck nods and you follow him to the tap. "Sweetie? What the fuck, Puckerman? Bitch has you neutered."

Puck smirks at you. "I don't think so, I bet I get more than you do, Lopez. Even if the word is that you have a spankin' good time."

You roll your eyes. "Don't be hatin' because Britts is an animal. Sexy times is sexy times is sexy times."

Puck shoots you a look. "I don't even want to know what that means."

"It _means_ that my sex life is amazing, thank you very much."

"Whatever you say, Satan." He looks at you softly for a moment. "So is Cass back for good now or what?"

"I think so." You nod and reach under the bar for a glass to mix a regular who just walked in his usual drink. Tonight's been great so far. It feels like things are getting back to normal.

"Good, because Quinn was all mopey when she didn't have anyone to hang out at the bar with and talk art and shit. Which is totally lame, but whatever."

You smirk slightly. "Aw, they're friends. And aw again because you are so fucking whipped." It's so true. Quinn is disgustingly dragging him around by the balls. At least when you're waiting on Britt's every need, you look _attractive_ doing it. Puck just looks like a lost puppy.

He looks at you uneasily. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Man up and accept it Puckerman."

Puck rolls his eyes. "Whatever, dude." You watch as he makes his way back to Quinn with her drink and she kisses him on the cheek. Cass snaps a picture of the moment and Puck's shoulders slump in defeat while Quinn smiles and pushes Cass' shoulder playfully. You smile at the gesture.

Yeah. Things are definitely getting back to normal.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Ok, so this is going to be a long author's note, so skip this if you don't care what I have to say haha. First, hello readers! Second, I apologize for the long wait, I have been so overwhelmed with life and things happening and I haven't had any motivation and I had horrible writer's block. In light of the upcoming Brittana KISS (finally) I seem to have found inspiration to keep going haha. Third, Wtf has been up with fanfiction, I have been attempting to upload for the past two days, but it hasn't been working! It's working now though, so yay. Fourth, there is two chapters and an epilogue left, so you can be looking forward to those. Fifth, hello new readers! I seem to have gotten an unbelievable amount of new subscribers this time around! So hello and thank you!

Lastly, many of you have PMed asking for my Twitter or Tumblr. I have a Tumblr, it is thatswherehopelies . tumblr . com. Hopefully I can make some friends through there if you are interested in following me and I can meet and see some of you :)

Here you go, enjoy, thank you, and I love and appreciate you all.

~Angie

* * *

><p>Ever since college, you've never been the person to meddle into other people's lives. You had learned that if you minded your own business, most people will return the favor.<p>

Which is why, sophomore year of college, when Rachel had asked you to go on a stake-out to spy on her only competition for the Spring musical, you refused. It is also the reason you declined to tag along with Kurt once to follow his boyfriend because of speculations he was cheating. And consequently, it is why the extent of your knowledge of Puck's dating life had once been limited to the hair color of his most recent lay.

However, as you sit behind the bar on a late Tuesday night, bored out of your mind and waiting for the rowdy frat kids in the back to leave, this changes.

"Tía, your phone just went off."

You rest your cheek against the countertop you just wiped down. "I don't want to get up."

Cass rolls her eyes. "It's Brittany."

You contemplate whether getting up is worth it. You decide it isn't. "I'll look at it later."

"I'm going to read it." You can hear the smirk in her voice and internally match it with your own, but on the outside you're too exhausted to do anything but sit here.

"What if it's a sext," you murmur. "Open at your own risk."

"Here." Cass slides the phone across the bar and you reach your hand out to stop it from slamming into your cheek. "Definitely don't want to see that."

You breathe out a short laugh. "Didn't think so." You lift your cheek off the bar and open the text.

**Brittany:** Are you coming home soon? Quinn just showed up and she's hysterical. Can she sleep on the couch?

You scrunch your forehead in confusion and concern and look up and across the bar. Your eyes skim over Cass who is looking back at her sketch pad and pass over an old man slouching over his martini until they land at the other side of the bar and on Puck. He's leaning over the bar talking to a pretty redhead and wearing his signature smirk. You look back down at the text before slamming your phone on the bar. Cass looks at you with wide eyes as you stand up. Fuck staying out of people's business. This just got personal.

You march across the bar and grab Puck, yanking on the back of his tight black shirt. "Ouch, Lopez, what the fuck?" You spin him around to face you. "Can't you see I was busy?"

You cross your arms angrily. "What are you doing?"

Puck sneers at you. "Working. Isn't that what you should be doing?"

"Don't play smart with me," you snap at him. "You were flirting with ginger over there."

"So?" He runs a hand over his Mohawk.

"So. Is there a reason why Quinn is staining my couch with her tears tonight?"

A flash of guilt crosses his face before his eyes harden. "We broke up." Your fingers let go of his shirt and he immediately runs a hand over the crinkled fabric.

"Dude." You don't really know what to say. You were pretty sure Puck was totally in love with Quinn. Like what the fuck?

"Quinn broke up with you?" Your eyes shoot to the side and see Cass standing next to you.

"Cass. You're not supposed to be on this side of the bar." You shoot her a look but she keeps her gaze leveled on Puck.

He shrugs. "No, I ended it." He aims for nonchalance, but you can see a hint of unease in the tiny wrinkle that creases his forehead.

"Why?" Cass glares and you feel nervous.

"Cass, that's not your business." Except you feel hypocritical because if protecting Quinn feels like your business then it's probably Cass' business too.

"Shut up, Tía, yes it is." She looks back at Puck and crosses her arms. "What's the deal, bro?"

Puck shifts uncomfortably. "It just wasn't working out."

You open your mouth to ask why, but Cass is too quick for you. "Bullshit."

"Cass!" Your grab her arm. She's being super unreasonable. "Knock it off."

"No, Tía, this dickwad is such a fucking pussy."

"Fuck you, Cass, you're like, twelve, you don't know about relationships." Puck scoffs and tries to push past her, but she doesn't move.

"I know a hell of a lot more than you do, asshole." She shoves Puck in the chest and you step between them.

"Cass, stop it. Right now." Your voice is sharp and you haven't used that tone with her since the very first night she was here. It feels weird when you're directing it at her.

"Tía-"

"No! Calm the fuck down or go home!"

Cass glares at you, but crosses her arms across her chest again, breathing heavily. Her gaze shifts to Puck and you look over your shoulder, expecting him to be in a similar position, but instead his chin is tucked against his chest and his arms hang loosely by his sides. He runs a hand across his face and sighs.

"I freaked out, okay?" Puck looks up at you and his dark eyes seem to swallow you whole. "I couldn't handle it."

You cock your head to the side and wonder what changed. "Thought she was different?"

He nods. "She is. She's like…" He trails off and looks away. "She's fucking perfect."

Cass scoffs. "You're an idiot."

"Cass."

Puck barks out a humorless laugh. "No, she's right."

"Hell yeah, I am." Cass studies him with that calculating look. "I don't get what the fuck your problem is."

Puck looks at you pleadingly. "Come on, Santana, you get it right?"

You open your mouth to tell him no, but then you suddenly understand. Sometimes the feelings you get for Brittany are so huge and strange to you that it freaks you out. She'll be doing something normal, like folding the laundry, and this random burst of happiness surges through you just because she folds her colored shirts different from how she folds the white ones. And it's weird and scary that you could be so happy just because Brittany folds her laundry differently. Before Brittany, you'd be lucky to know the girl you fucked's name, let alone whether she purposely mismatches her socks or not. Sometimes, you think it was easier that way, no complications or arguing about who dripped toothpaste on the bathroom counter and didn't clean it up.

You get where Puck's coming from, the fear and uncertainty of settling in and letting your life merge with someone else's. Putting the simple things that used to be in your control into their hands.

But it's kind of better this way. Some things are harder, like the anxiety you feel when Brittany forgets to turn the stove off and the anger of someone burning your apartment down that's laced under the fear of losing someone who has woven their fingers into the intricate blanket of routine that used to control your life.

However, some things are also easier. Like coming home from work and no longer feeling the cold emptiness of an apartment. Or having someone tell you that you look beautiful every day, not because you just fucked them senseless, but because they want to and actually believe it. Or like when you wake up in the morning to a plate of cookies on the kitchen counter with a note that's says "a special treat for someone sweet," or "just because I love you."

The uncomplicated routine that you had once followed to the minute can't compare to the arguments and anxiety that comes with letting someone into your life.

And if you had any doubts before that what you shared with Brittany wasn't serious, or long term, they were completely gone now. Yeah, being with Brittany freaks you out sometimes, but it's definitely worth it. She's worth it.

"I don't know, Puck." You look at him sympathetically. "The old ways, yeah, we had some good fucking times, you know? But how can you go back to that when you've found something better?"

Puck looks at you in disbelief. "Dude, San, seriously? What're you saying, that Brittany's it for you?"

You shrug. "As of right now, yeah." You're pretty sure right now will turn into forever, but like you're going to admit that to Puck.

Puck presses his palm to his forehead. "Fuck it."

Cass snorts behind you. "Dude, you fucked up. Quinn is awesome and now you screwed it up."

Puck's shoulders slump and you squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. "No, come on, man. Pull yourself together. You are the Puckster, you can fix it."

He looks at you uneasily. "I don't know."

"Don't be a douche, Puck." Cass crosses her arms again. "Quinn's the best you're ever going to get."

He rolls his eyes. "Jesus, Lopez, are you sure she's not your illegitimate kid or some shit?"

You raise your eyebrows, offended. "Umm. Does this body _look_ like it's been through pregnancy?"

Puck shakes his head in annoyance. "God, I hate you guys sometimes."

Cass smirks. "Bullshit."

"Cass. Language." You give her a stern look.

"I just said fuck, like ten times and you didn't say anything!"

"I'm saying it now."

"Ugh, whatever." She shoots Puck another glare. "Fix things with Quinn. Before it's too late."

He looks at you uneasily. "I think I need to sleep on it."

Cass opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off. "Okay, you do that." You pat Puck on the shoulder. "But for now, we're going home."

He nods at you and you push Cass back to her corner so she can get her things. Then you steer her out of the bar and down the street. She looks over at you as you walk.

"You know, it really wouldn't surprise me if you had a kid. Your boobs are too big for you to not have been pregnant."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying."

"Lesbian."

"Lesbians have drunken mistakes too."

You snort. "Not me."

"Then you got a boob job, right?"

"Shut up."

Pause.

"I'm just saying."

* * *

><p>The hall light is the only light on when you get home, so you assume Brittany went to bed. You hang up your jacket as Cass stalks through the door and over to the couch. You throw your keys on the counter next to the mail and follow her into the sitting room. Quinn is asleep, her blonde hair falling over her face and legs tangled awkwardly over the side of the couch. A blanket sits crumpled on the floor and you guess it probably fell off when Quinn twisted into the uncomfortable position she's currently in. You pick it up and drape it over her body and smooth silky strands of hair away from her face.<p>

Even in sleep, Quinn looks distraught. Her lips twist at the corners and her forehead is creased in several places. You look up as Cass snaps a picture of her with the camera Quinn gave her.

"What are you doing?" You hiss. "Put that away."

Cass shrugs. "Quinn says the best pictures are of something sad or beautiful." She clicks another picture. "This is both sad and beautiful."

You resist the urge to grab the camera. "I don't think she meant to take pictures of her when she's passed out on the couch after her boyfriend dumped her."

"She also said photography has no boundaries."

You roll your eyes. "God, I could slap you sometimes. You and Puck. Fuck."

Cass smirks and points the lens at you before clicking the button. You make a lunge for her, but she gracefully jumps out of your reach. "Whatever. I'm going to bed."

You watch her walk down the hallway before you go into the kitchen and get a glass of water. Then you walk back over to Quinn and set the glass on the coffee table. She shifts in her sleep, but doesn't wake up, so you quietly creep away and into your room. You close the door gently behind you and tip toe around in the dark, trying not to wake Brittany.

You slip out of your black work shirt and jeans and into a tank top. When you finally crawl under the covers, you sigh in exhaustion and scoot as close as possible to Brittany so your front is pressed tightly to her back. Wrapping your arm across her stomach, you nestle your nose into her hair and breathe deeply, relishing the familiar scent. Brittany shifts and her fingers slide between yours while your bare legs tangle up in hers. Her cold toes find refuge against your calves and you shiver.

"Hey," she whispers.

"Hey," you murmur back. "You're awake."

She squeezes your hand. "Can't sleep."

"Why not?" You press a kiss to her bare shoulder before nuzzling your nose against her neck.

Her shoulders move up and down in a shrug. "I don't know," she croaks out and her back shudders in a deep breath.

You furrow your eyebrows and lean up, trying to look at her face, but she's hiding it in her pillow. "Baby, what's wrong?" She doesn't answer and you stroke her hair. "Britt? Sweetie, look at me."

She shifts slightly and you try to find her eyes in the darkness. Your fingers gently pass over her cheeks and she sucks in another breath. "What's wrong, babe?" She shakes her head and rolls over, meeting your eyes with a look of insecurity that you've never seen there before. She's not crying, but the look sends you into a small panic. What's wrong? How do you get rid of that expression?

"Babe?" You ask again, desperate uncertainty creeping into your voice. You gently press your lips to her forehead, hoping that the gesture will offer her some comfort.

Brittany bites her lip before relaxing and throwing an arm around your waist. You snuggle closer, confused. "Sorry," she whispers.

"Hmmm." You hug her to your chest. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sighs, her hot breath hitting your neck. "It's just… I don't know. Poor Quinn." You make a noise in agreement.

"Yeah, I think Puck kind of dropped the ball." You snicker. "Not his though, fucking pussy."

Brittany snorts. "Santana."

"Sorry, sorry."

"I've never seen her like this," Brittany murmurs.

A picture of a restless Quinn on your couch flashes into your mind. "Yeah."

Brittany pulls back to look at you and her eyes remind you of one of your favorite marbles you played with when you were little. The ball was light blue, a swirling black tendril cutting through the middle. You liked to watch as the colors mixed when you shot it and it spun out of your fingers. "She wanted to know if you were working tonight."

You lift an eyebrow curiously. "Oh?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"She probably wanted to know if I was with Puck and knew about their break up."

Brittany shakes her head. "No, I think she wanted to talk to you."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Why?"

Brittany smirks slightly. "I know you're friends, Santana."

"I will neither confirm nor deny that statement."

A contemplative look passes over Brittany's face before her eyes turn insecure again. "She was just so surprised. She didn't see it coming at all."

You kiss her forehead again. "Yeah, Puck got cold feet." You poke Brittany in the side. "Your feet are freezing by the way."

Brittany presses her feet harder against your legs. Then she looks at you seriously. "Are your feet cold, too?"

You scoot impossibly closer, resting your nose against hers. "No, I wore thick socks today."

Brittany sighs and kisses you slowly. You close your eyes and revel in the feeling of your lips sliding together. She pulls away and rests her forehead to yours. "That's not what I meant," she whispers.

Your eyes snap open. "What?" Is she doubting you? You move back a fraction of an inch to get a better look at her. She's biting her lip, teeth gnawing at the skin. Her eyes are shadowed in the dark, black pupils studying you. They fall away from your questioning gaze.

"Never mind," she mumbles. You grab her hand and give it a squeeze.

"Tell me."

"I just…" She takes a deep breath before looking back at you. "Sometimes I get scared. What we have is so real, and I'm afraid it's too good to be true and one day you're going to just realize that there are other girls out there and you're going to leave me."

You feel your nose scrunch up. "Babe, I already know there are other girls out there." Brittany opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She closes it and her lip trembles. She looks like a wounded puppy and you kind of want to die because it looks so wrong, but she's just so damn cute. "I already know there are other girls out there. But I don't want them. I just want you."

"San," Brittany coughs out. A few tears build up in her eyes.

"No, B. You're it for me. I love you." Your hands cup her cheeks. "My feet are on fire. I could get frostbite in all my toes, and they'd still be nice and toasty."

Brittany chuckles and wipes at her eyes. "I love you too." She inhales sharply. "Sorry, this whole thing just freaked me out. I know you love me. I just… had to make sure."

You press a kiss to her nose. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm in this, babe." You hold back a smile. "I know other things I could be in right now, too." You wiggle your eyebrows at her and are rewarded with a small smile.

"Sometimes I have no idea why I love you." Brittany rolls her eyes playfully.

"It's because my feet aren't the only part of me that's hot. I'm sexy and I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it."

She laughs and throws her arm across your body. "I better be the only one that knows it." Soft wisps of hair tickle your nose when she leans closer.

"No promises." Your smile drops when her lips crash into yours. "Mmmpf."

She pulls away and you lean up, desperate to keep your lips attached. Brittany smirks when she moves out of your reach. "I'm hotter than you anyway."

You scoff. "No way. I'm the hottest bitch in this city."

"I don't think so." Her lips ghost over yours, just out of reach.

"I do."

"I'm definitely sexier." She breathes hotly against your lips and you unsuccessfully strain your neck to lift you higher up. Shivers travel down to your toes at the sight of Brittany smirking above you, hair falling in a curtain around her face. So… sexy. "Admit it."

You furrow your eyebrows at her challenging tone. "No."

Her voice drops as her lips inch closer. "Say it."

Arousal shoots through you and you suppress a whimper. It's so sexy when she's dominating you. "Britt…"

"Come on, San. Say it." Blue eyes twinkle in the darkness and you slump on your pillow, reluctant to admit defeat. Brittany must sense victory because her smirk grows, white teeth flashing. "I'm hotter than you."

You roll your eyes. "Fine."

"Say it."

You sigh, visibly defeated. "You're hotter than me," you grumble out and lean up, searching for contact.

Brittany's smirk turns into an amused smile. "Awesome." You roll your eyes and she finally connects her lips back to yours.

As long as you're the second hottest bitch in this town, you're willing to give up the first place title.

Hell, as long as Brittany's tongue moves against yours like that… you'd be willing to give up anything.

* * *

><p>"I'll see your Skittle… and raise you a yellow M&amp;M."<p>

Brittany looks at you over the top of her cards. "Wait, I thought Skittles were worth more than M&Ms."

"No way." You hide your smirk behind your own hand. "Skittles suck."

"I like them."

"Well, then don't bet all of yours away."

"But I'm going to win, so then I'll have them all."

"You're bluffing."

Brittany raises an eyebrow. "I raise you two Dots."

"Well, I fold." Quinn throws her cards on the table.

You and Brittany share a smirk. "You suck at this game Q."

"It's Go Fish. You can't even gamble when you're playing Go Fish." She rolls her eyes before popping a jelly bean in her mouth.

"Quinn!" Brittany pouts. "You're eating all the money." Quinn sticks her tongue out and steals one of Brittany's Dots.

You chuckle at their bickering. Then you look at the clock and sigh. You have to leave for work in a half hour. And it's Saturday. The bar is going to be busy. You huff in annoyance before yelling down the hall. "Cass! I'm leaving in a half hour."

You hear a thump and a "crap" before she sticks her head around the corner. "Oh. I forgot to tell you… I'm not coming to work with you tonight."

Brittany looks up from her cards. "Wait, are you staying here with me and Quinn? Want to play Go Fish with us?"

"I ummm…" Her cheeks turn a shade darker. "No, I'm going out, actually."

Quinn smirks. "Is it a date?" You laugh and raise your eyebrows, surprised when Cass looks slightly flustered.

"No. It's… it's _not_ a date."

"Who asked you out?"

"Quinn! I said it's not a date."

You catch Brittany's eye and smile mischievously. "Then why are you hiding behind the wall?"

"I uh…"

"Yeah," Brittany chimes in. "And why is your hair curled so nicely?"

Cass falters slightly. "I… it dries like this."

You snort. "No it doesn't."

"Tía! Yes it does!"

"Whatever you say," Brittany sing-songs.

Cass narrows her eyes. "I hate all of you." Then her head disappears as she stalks back down the hall.

Quinn laughs and grabs the camera she gave Cass that's sitting on the coffee table. "I'll take her picture when she comes back."

You nod. "It's so a date."

Brittany pops a Dot in her mouth. "I bet I know them. It's why she wouldn't say who it was."

You hear a knock on the door and Cass yells from down the hall. "I'll get it!"

You smirk. "This is priceless." You stand up and race to get to the door before Cass. She's not even out of her room yet and you roll your eyes.

You open the door and see a tall blonde kid fidgeting on the other side. He's gangly and extremely skinny. His hands are stuffed into his pockets and he's rocking on the balls of his feet. You give him the once over, noting everything from his scuffed black Converse to his skinny jeans, his blue polo shirt and the glasses sliding down his nose. Everything about this kid screams awkward teen.

He clears his throat. "Hi… is Cass here?"

"She might be." You're totally going to mess with this kid. "And who are you?"

He smiles and his hand shoots out enthusiastically. "Oh! Sorry. John Crater. You must be her aunt."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what gave you that idea?"

He shoots you a lopsided grin. "Oh well, she looks just like you. It's totally weird, you guys could be like, sisters or something." Red tinges his cheeks. "You're just as pretty as Cass."

You hold back a laugh. "Are you hitting on me? I mean, I'm into blondes and all, but… don't you think I'm a little old for you?"

"Wait… what… uh." The boy's mouth falls open before realization flashes across his face. He lets out a laugh. "Oh. You're joking."

You finally smile at him. "Santana."

"Nice to meet you!" He shakes your hand heartily. Dang this kid has a lot of energy.

"Want to come in?" You hold the door open and he follows you into the apartment. You lead him into the kitchen, amused at the fact that Cass still hasn't left her room. The boy smiles brightly when he enters the kitchen behind you.

"Ms. Pierce!"

Brittany gives him a high five. "Crater?"

"Dude, Ms. P…. you live here?" He pushes his glasses up farther on his nose and looks around.

Brittany nods. "Yeah." She catches your eye again and smiles. "So what are your plans for tonight?"

"Dinner and a movie, you know." He nods excitedly.

"Tía!" Cass storms into the kitchen. "I said I'd get it!"

You roll your eyes. "He would've been waiting out there for five minutes, Cass, don't be ridiculous." You take in her tight jeans and flowing red shirt. Her hair is curled and makeup perfect. You smirk. This is _so_ a date. "I couldn't make your date wait outside, that's rude."

Her lips tighten, even as the Crater kid smiles hugely. You almost laugh, he's so dopey looking. "It's totally cool, Cass," the kid says. "You didn't tell me you live with Ms. P." He throws an arm around Cass' shoulders and her cheeks flush as a tiny smile makes the corners of her lips curve upward.

You look at Quinn and she mouths 'date' at you. You smile and nod.

"I didn't know you two were dating." Brittany smiles at the kid.

"We're not dating!" Cass shoots out quickly. Embarrassment turns her cheeks yet another shade darker.

The Crater kid takes it all in stride, a wide smile gracing his face as he chuckles. "Not yet!"

Cass looks away, but you laugh. "Well, good to know. You better have her back by one, though, or you can make that 'yet' into a 'never.'"

The boy nods solemnly. "I understand. Definitely. I wouldn't dare keep her out that late, no worries!"

Cass presses a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God. Can we go now?"

Crater's smile returns. "Totally!" He removes his hand from Cass' shoulders and waves at you. "It was awesome meeting you, Santana." You nod at him as Cass grabs his hand and starts to lead him out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Cass!" Quinn calls. Cass turns around and Quinn snaps a picture of her. Everyone laughs, except Cass, who shoots everyone a glare.

"Come on, John."

"Okay! Bye, Ms. Pierce, see you Monday!"

"Later, Crater." Brittany giggles and as the door slams behind the kid, you can't help but join in.

"Oh my God." Quinn laughs out. "It is so a date."

"Totally," Brittany agrees. "I bet he's been pestering her since she's been back. They were really close before she left."

You sit on Brittany's lap and her arms wind around you. "He's weird."

"Aww," Brittany chuckles. "I think he's cute."

Quinn nods. "Adorable."

You snort. "He's totally Cass' type, it's hilarious. She was trying so hard to pretend it's not a date." You shake your head before looking at the time again. "Ugh, I have to go to work."

Brittany pouts. "Don't go."

You sigh. "I need a vacation. Let's go somewhere warm, like… the Bahamas or something."

Brittany kisses your cheek and chuckles. "We can go there on our honeymoon."

You haven't really talked about marriage or anything, but your heart flutters at the thought of going on a honeymoon with Britt. "Okay." You smile at her. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Quinn's expression fall. Shit. You push off of Brittany's lap. "I have to go, guys. But I'll see you later."

You kiss Brittany on the lips and grab your jacket. On the way out, you look back at Quinn one more time. She's staring dejectedly at the table and your heart clenches at the sight.

Fucking Puckerman. You're going to have a talk with him. Damn that douchebag for hurting Quinn. Damn that dick for getting cold feet. And damn the day you ever started caring about Quinn Fabray.

You sigh as you close the door behind you. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>Routine.<p>

That's what your life had been. Easy. Simple. Routine.

Then Brittany and Cass had come along, crashing into your life like they might cannon ball into a pool. Quick and with a bang, disturbing the balance and sending ripples through your life that affected every aspect of it.

Except for work.

The bar was your one routine that had stuck. Sure, Brittany and Quinn could come in and bother you while you mixed drinks behind the bar, and Cass could sit in her corner and pass off sly comments with Puck while she drew or did homework. But in the end, the routine of the whole thing remained.

The wiping down of the counter, the mixing of a kamikaze for the cute blonde girl who you knew was straight (not that it mattered anymore). The tips that you slid into your pockets, and the easy flow of conversation with Finn and Puck.

It was routine. All of it. And even when you were frustrated and pissed at Puck, the whole thing was therapeutic.

"San," Puck calls your name as he passes by you. "Dude down at the end needs a refill."

"Yeah," you yell back. "And the girls in the back need to be cut off." Your statement is confirmed when one of the girls falls off her chair into a giggling mess on the floor. Amateurs.

Believe it or not, but the insanity of working the Saturday night shift is what keeps you sane.

This fact sticks out to you when Puck approaches you on your break and makes you a surprising offer.

"Santana."

"Puckerwoman."

Puck snorts. "That wasn't even a good one."

You shrug indifferently and take a sip of the beer you grabbed before your break started. "It's been a long night."

"Right." He sits in the chair next to you at the small table in the back room. "So… you've been working here a long time."

You bring the bottle up to your lips. "Sure have."

He looks at you curiously. "Why?" You shrug, not really having much of an answer. "Hmmm." Puck nods annoyingly.

You shoot him a look. "What are you getting at?"

"I don't know if you have plans to leave here eventually, or a vision for your future or whatever…" He trails off and you huff in frustration.

"Are you firing my ass?"

Puck smirks. "No. I wanted to ask if you would sign for co-ownership with me."

You stare at him in shock, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Me?" You eventually choke out. "What about Finn?"

Puck runs a hand over his Mohawk. "Finn… Finn is a good employee and a great buddy. But he doesn't have the authority to run this place. I need a badass who won't be walked all over, someone who knows what they're doing and doesn't take shit from people." He looks at you meaningfully. "I need you, Lopez."

He makes it sound like some high stakes job and you'd find it funny… if you know, you didn't find it so serious and unexpected.

"If you sign for it, we can share the cut I take out, which is pretty awesome and shit." Puck shrugs. "I mean, you can say no if you want. It's just that when I opened this place, I was 25, you know? And I know I'm not old or anything, but I was just starting to think that _just in case_, it would be really great if I had someone I trusted to take over."

You look away from his serious expression, unable to think when he's looking at you like that. This is just so… unexpected. Like what the fuck? It's not like you planned on working at the bar your whole life…

But then again, it's not like you had other plans either.

And then it hits you. You have this big moment of clarity. A revelation, if you will.

Everyone has their dreams. Everyone has their passions. But what's yours? You don't really have any. You never really have. And the revelation is that _it's okay_.

Not everyone makes it big. Not everyone can have a big impact on the world. Some people can just have a tiny impact on one thing, one person, and that's enough. That's okay.

You were never one to make it big, to be famous and so rich that you're shitting out money. No, that's Kurt, with his internationally known fashion line. That's Rachel, who will probably have a Tony and a Grammy someday. That's Brittany, with her beautiful dancing, and Quinn with her insightful pictures. Hell, that's maybe even Cass one day.

But you? It's not you.

Your dreams, they're not for yourself. They're for Cass and Brittany. Kurt and Rachel. Even Quinn.

In this moment of clarity, you realize that you don't need anything more than what you have. Your job, that's not your dream. Not everyone's dream has to revolve around their career choice. And that's fine. What you have at the bar is enough for you.

You have friends and family. You're good at mixing drinks and coaxing out tips. You're fucking awesome at preventing bar fights (except when you're in them, but that's not the point).

This place is your home away from home. It relaxes you and keeps you sane.

And don't we all need a little routine in our life anyway?

Puck clears his throat. "Well? What do you say?"

You look back up at him and smirk. "If I say yes, will the bar change to _Lopez and Puckerman's_? I think it has a nice ring to it."

He rolls his eyes and shoves your shoulder playfully. "So is that a yes?"

You nod. "You got yourself a deal."

"Awesome!" He fist bumps you and you let out a laugh. "We can sign the papers later this week, I have to sort out some legal stuff first."

"Cool." Your break is almost over, so you stand up, ready to go back out front.

"San, wait." You raise an eyebrow at Puck's hesitant expression. He looks at you sheepishly. "Is… Is Quinn doing okay?"

Well, at least he's asking, so now you don't even have to bring it up. "Yeah, sure. If by okay, you mean moping around my apartment all week."

Guilt flashes across his face and he puts his head in his hands. "Fuck." He sighs. "I don't know what to do. How do you handle this, Lopez?"

You hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "I love Brittany."

"It's not that simple."

You look at him seriously. "It can be."

"It's not." He scoffs and you roll your eyes.

You turn to leave, but decide to give him a little advice. "You should call Quinn." Advice… forceful push in the right direction… same thing, right?

Puck sighs. "Yeah. Maybe."

You roll your eyes as you walk out. As you stop at the door, you smirk. "I meant what I said about the name change, Puckerman."

As you make your way back to the noise of the bar, you're pretty sure you hear a laugh and a strangled, "Fuck you, Lopez."

But hey, it's all part of the routine.

* * *

><p>Coming home after work is one of the best parts of your day.<p>

Or it usually is. But for the past few nights, it hasn't exactly been heartwarming to walk through the door and see a depressed Quinn sleeping on your couch.

So even with the exciting news of your newfound co-ownership of Puckerman's, it makes you a little sad when you open the door, fully expecting to be met with Quinn's sleeping form.

Except, Quinn's not there.

Instead, you're met with a slight breeze coming from the open fire escape window and the sound of quiet laughter. Before you can take your coat off, your curiosity gets the best of you and you approach the open window (with caution of course, because while you're curious, you're not exactly in favor of getting attacked by a stranger or anything).

As you get closer, the first thing you notice is a strong smell. A vaguely familiar smell. A smell you haven't, well, smelt since college.

The second thing you notice is that the quiet laughter belongs to Cass, and your guard immediately drops as you poke your head out the window.

"What are you guys doing?"

You know it's a stupid question, because it's pretty obvious what they're doing, but when you came home from work you weren't expecting to find Quinn and Cass having a smoke sesh in the fire escape.

Cass' eyes go wide and she tries to hide the lit joint behind her back. "Tía! Hi! Nothing! What are… what are you doing?"

Quinn looks at Cass' startled expression and starts giggling quietly. You look between the two of them, unsure if you should be amused or pissed.

"Well, I was about to go to bed, but it seems you guys were having a nice chit chat in the fire escape!" You smirk sarcastically. "Mind if I join you?"

"Uh…" Cass' mouth falls open and Quinn continues to laugh at her panicked expression.

"Oh give it up, Cass. She's totally on to us."

Cass' face falls. "Well, fuck." She looks at you with a pout that you have definitely never seen on her face before. Maybe she's been spending too much time with Britt. "Am I in trouble?"

You tilt your head to the side. You're pretty sure this falls under the 'things to punish a teenager for' category… but you haven't smoked weed since college and you _did_ just get a promotion…

"Only if you don't let me join you." You smile at Cass and her face lights up.

"Awesome!"

You giggle and she passes you the joint as you sit on the windowsill. You inhale, slow and long, until your throat feels too hot, before letting out a stream of smoke. Fuck yeah, you're still a pro at that. You pass the stick to Quinn and she does the same.

Suddenly, Cass starts giggling again. "Oh my God, this is so weird. I seriously can't believe I'm getting baked with two adults right now."

Quinn shrugs and you chuckle a little. "I'm celebrating bitches. Guess who is a co-owner of Puckerman's!"

"No way?" Cass looks at you curiously, her face giving off a slightly red tint as she brings the joint to her lips.

You nod. "Yep." Cass passes you the joint again and after taking two hits, you hand it to Quinn.

You sit in silence for a minute, passing the joint around your little circle, until it's burned down to the tip. A light haze settles over you and you feel your breath start to come out softer and longer. You stare off into space, thinking.

Suddenly, Quinn lets out a snort. "Remember how I used to own Puckerman? And now you own Puckerman's." You nod slowly, unsure if she's joking or upset. You get your answer a second later. "Fuck men."

Cass makes a noise next to you. "Totally. Men are dicks."

"I hate them all."

"They always leave you when you need them."

"They're good for nothing and make a mess of your shit."

"They never use a condom."

"They knock you up too young."

Quinn and Cass stare at each other and there's a pregnant pause (no pun intended). Then they both start laughing loudly. You stare at them, amused, until they both look at you.

"What?"

"Don't you have anything to say?" Cass raises an eyebrow.

You shrug. "You're preaching to the choir here."

Quinn nods. "True dat." You snort at her attempt to be ghetto. Bitch be too white for her own good.

You look over at Cass. "Speaking of men… how was your date?"

She rolls her eyes and looks at the brick wall across the alley. "Fine."

Wait a second… "You didn't get that weed from that kid did you?"

Cass shakes her head. "Nope, I got it from this weird chick at school. Seemed legit though."

You open your mouth to lecture her on the dangers of getting drugs from 'that weird chick at school,' but Quinn beats you to it. "That sounds safe."

Cass shrugs. "Seems fine to me. I am high as a kite right now. As baked as a brownie."

You nod in agreement. "Well as long as that kid isn't a tool…"

"He's fine."

"Right."

Cass looks thoughtful for a moment and you can't tell if it's the weed or if she's actually thinking. "Know which men are the worst, though? Fathers. They either leave you or fuck everything up."

You can't help but agree, your own situation coming to the front of your mind along with what you know about Cass' dad.

"Hey," you whisper softly. "What happened with your dad in Ohio?"

Cass shrugs and you can feel Quinn looking between to the two of you, but you fix your gaze somewhere in the distance.

Cass sighs. "I didn't even visit him the first week. I was too nervous. By the second week, I was so fed up with Abuela that I figured I had stayed there for a reason, so I better get my ass in gear and go see that reason, you know?"

She pauses and Quinn makes an interested noise before Cass continues. "So I went to see him. He seemed surprised to see me. He was like, confused why I didn't come back to New York I guess. By the time I was done explaining the situation, visiting time was up so I had to go."

You look over and see her staring at the brick wall, as if images were flashing across it like a movie screen. "Then what?" You ask, your curiosity prompting her.

"The next week I went and we talked a little. I told him about New York and you and school and everything. That was basically it. The fourth week, I realized that small talk was a bunch of bullshit and I told him how I wanted to fix things when he got out, you know?" Her voice cracks a little, but she keeps going.

"I told him that we were still a family. We could fix our relationship, and things could go back to normal." She shakes her head. "He seemed okay with it. Or at least I thought he was. He didn't argue or anything. But then the fifth week I went, he sat down and looked at me and I could tell he was going to say something shitty."

Cass leans her head against the wall and looks at you. "It ended up not being completely shitty, but it still hurt a lot. He said that he loved me, but things weren't going to work out between us. He said I needed someone better than him. He said I _deserved_ someone better. He told me to come back to New York because you could provide more for me than he could. I caught a plane the next day."

You bite your lip, unsure if you should argue or not. On one hand this was her father… on the other hand… well, you don't know if it's selfish or not, but you agree with him. You think you _are_ better for her. You decide to stay silent.

"That sounds fucked up." Quinn comments and you roll your eyes. Tactful, Quinn, nice.

Cass shrugs. "I guess. I think he was right though." She smiles shyly at you. "I like it here, I made the wrong choice when I chose Ohio."

You see the apology in her eyes and nod. "You're here now."

"Yeah, I am." She laughs quietly. "Abuela is the worst person to live with anyway. What an uptight bitch."

You burst into laughter. "Try living with that for like, sixteen years."

Cass nods and a silence falls between you again. You start to shiver and decide to go to bed. It's late anyway. You stand up and pat Cass on the shoulder. Then you look to Quinn and wince at the now familiar expression of sadness that crosses her face.

"Hey, Q." She looks up at you and you smile softly at her. "He'll come around, just give him some time, okay?"

She returns the smile and you squeeze her hand gently. "Goodnight, Santana. Thanks."

Once you step back inside, you pray that one of these days, Puck will stop being a douche.

For Quinn's sake, you hope he beats the odds.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Hi readers. So I apologize once again for the delay. I swear, being an English major was both the best and worst decision I've ever made. So many papers! (Also I kind of went into a coma after Heart and then I just got out of it and then BAM On My Way. GAH!) Damn this hiatus, though right?

Anyway, I wanted to run something by you guys. I know this is a Brittana story, but so many of you have told me that Cass is your favorite. So I was thinking I might write a series of one shots from her POV that illustrates the interactions between her with San, Britt, and Quinn. There would be a lot more Brittany scenes in that POV than we get in this one because it's behind the scenes. I would probably just tack that story on at the end of this story. I would really like your opinion on this and if you would be interested in reading it. So feel free to either shoot me a review or PM me with your opinion, I would really appreciate it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ridiculously fluffy chapter. Thanks and I love you guys :)

* * *

><p>You're stuck.<p>

You're trying to stay in control, but you can feel confusion and frustration bubbling up in your stomach, boiling over into your chest. You shouldn't be getting angry, but you honestly can't help it.

"Tía, hurry the fuck up."

You glare at Cass before returning your gaze back to the game in front of you. Your eyes flicker back and forth from the Scrabble board to the seven tiny tiles resting in their little wooden home, silently mocking you. You let out a sigh, infuriated.

What? You're competitive, okay?

"Why are we playing this again?" You purse your lips in an attempt to wipe the scowl off your face. It's just a game. It's just a game.

Cass rolls her eyes. "For the love of God. I'm making popcorn. Let me know if it somehow happens to be my turn again in the next hour." She pushes up from the table and heads into the kitchen.

You huff out a frustrated sigh. This is all Quinn's fault. Sure, she's finally left your couch and has started sleeping back in her old apartment. But it kind of feels like she _lives_ with you now. Which is fine, you guess. She can come hang out as often as she likes, it's not like you have anything better to do. The problem is that Quinn brought Scrabble… and apparently Cass really, really likes Scrabble. So of course, you _had_ to play it. And you're not _bad_ at the game… you just aren't amazing and get stuck sometimes. Like, now, for instance.

You've been staring at the same letters for so long that they've started to run together, a tiny black blur swimming before your eyes. You feel a foot nudge yours under the table and look over to Brittany. She smiles softly and raises her eyebrows in a silent question.

_Want to trade?_

Your gaze shifts between her eyes and your letters. Then you chance a glance at Quinn, who is intently staring at her camera screen. You look back at Brittany and nod subtly. Smirking, she spins her letters around to face you.

As you stare at her letters, you hear the distant sound of the microwave beeping in the background. You shrug it off and raise your eyebrows at Brittany's organization.

_DU K E R B F_

"Don't take the D, U, or K, but you can have any of the others," Brittany whispers.

"Why not those?"

She smiles cutely and points to an open C on the board. CDUK? DUKC?

Oh.

Duck.

You nod again and Brittany scrunches her nose. You decide to take the E and trade it for your V.

"Quit cheating."

You glare at Cass as she walks back in, a bowl of popcorn in her hands. "Cheating is beating. Plus, we're not even keeping score."

Cass shrugs. "It's the thought that counts and I think that I win. Cheaters."

"I'll cheat if I want, this is my apartment."

"Yeah, but it's not your game."

"I wouldn't even be playing this if Barbie wasn't such a nerd."

"Oh, leave Quinn out of this. You're just mad because you're losing."

"We're not keeping score!"

Brittany sighs next to you and Quinn looks up from her camera. "Are they always like this?"

Brittany quirks an eyebrow. "Like this? No it's usually much worse."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, it's your turn, B."

As Brittany smiles and starts arranging her letters on the board, your phone goes off in your pocket. You take it out and see _Puck_ flashing on the screen. You glance at Quinn, but she's fiddling with her own letters.

"Be right back," you announce to the table.

You accept the call and bring the phone to your ear as you walk out of the kitchen and into the entrance hall. "Hello?"

"_Santana."_

Puck's voice is rushed and anxious. "Puck? What's wrong?"

"_Nothing's wrong."_

"Then why are you calling me?"

"_I just…"_ There's a pause and you impatiently wait for him to continue. _"Is Quinn with you?"_

"Yeah…" You lean against the front door. "Why?"

"_I… No reason."_

You roll your eyes. "What do you want with her?"

"_Nothing, okay?"_ You scoff and keep quiet until Puck caves under the silence. _"Fuck!"_ The curse echoes through the phone and you pull the thing away from your ear and give it an incredulous look before bringing it back up.

"Am I on speaker phone?"

"_No!"_ The voice reaches through the phone and somehow still echoes through both of your ears. What the hell? You hear rustling outside and your eyes widen as you push off the front door and open it slowly.

Puck looks at you with a half guilty expression and a half hysterical expression, phone still up to his ear, as he stands on the other side of the door.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Puck snaps his phone shut and glares at you. "Shh!"

"Don't tell me to be quiet, you're the one standing outside my door!" You cross your arms as his eyes turn pleading.

"Come on, Lopez, help a brother out."

"It's my night off!"

"I'm not here about work."

You eye him suspiciously. "What do you want?"

Puck runs a hand over his Mohawk. "I just… I want to get back together with Quinn."

You roll your eyes. "Well, it's about damn time. But I don't know what you want me to do about it."

He looks away and then he's pacing circles right outside your door, chest heaving and hands fidgeting. "I don't know how to do this," he hisses out finally.

"Okay, first, chill." You grab his arm and hold him in place. "Second, dude you just have to tell her that you fucked up and want her back." You shrug. It seems pretty simple to you.

"She might say no!"

"Well she can't say yes unless you say something…"

"Tía? What's going on?" Cass appears next to you in the doorway and her forehead scrunches as she takes in Puck's nervous stance. "What are you doing here?"

"He wants Quinn back."

Puck brings his hands up to his face. "Fucking Jesus Christ."

Cass smirks. "Well it's about damn time." She turns back into the apartment. "Quinn! There's someone here to see you!"

Puck stiffens. "Cass! Oh God. Fuck. Shit. San, stop her!" Quinn walks up behind you and Puck slumps in defeat. "Shit."

"Noah?"

He smiles sheepishly. "Uh. Hi Quinn."

"What are you doing here?"

You look back and forth between them before grabbing Cass' arm. "We'll just be in the kitchen." You pull Cass out of the doorway.

"But I wanted to hear," she whispers.

You smile knowingly. "Please you didn't think I wouldn't let us eavesdrop, did you?"

She flashes you a toothy grin. "Hells yeah!" You turn the corner that separates the hall from the entranceway and press yourselves up against the wall.

"So…" You hear Puck say. "How have you been?" You kind of want to face palm because you've been telling him she's been moping around the past two weeks. Idiot.

"What do you want, Noah?" Cass and you share a look. It sounds like bitchy Quinn is out to play.

You feel hot breath on your neck. "What are you doing?"

You and Cass both jump, startled. "Jesus, Britt, you can't just sneak up like that."

Brittany smiles slightly before poking her head around the corner. You pull her back. "Don't look! We're listening."

"You shouldn't spy," Brittany whispers.

Cass waves a hand in front of Brittany's face. "Be quiet."

Brittany rolls her eyes but rests her chin on your shoulder as you tune back into the conversation happening in doorway.

"… fucked everything up and I don't know what I was thinking."

"Really Noah? You don't know what you were thinking?"

"Please Quinn. I got scared, okay? The things you make me feel and like, think, they're really new to me and it freaked me out. I haven't felt like this before. I love you."

There's a pause until Quinn's voice bites through the silence bitterly. "So this is how you treat people you love?"

"No!" Puck rushes out. "You're just… you're really different Quinn, you're special. You're not just in it for a fuck and you're so… fucking passionate about things and I'm just not used to that. But I realized that it doesn't matter if I'm used to it or not because I want you in my life."

"I don't know, Noah." You can practically see Quinn biting her lip.

"I just… I don't know how to be without you anymore. I love you, Quinn."

"Jesus Christ," you whisper. "Come on Quinn. He's embarrassing himself. Put him out of his misery."

"Santana," Brittany scolds.

"She's going to say yes, guys honestly." Cass rolls her eyes. "Now shut up."

"I miss you, Quinn."

"I miss you, too."

"So why can't this work out?"

"I don't know, Noah…"

"Please, Quinn! Let me… let's just go out on a date again and let me prove I can do things right. Please."

Brittany's arms tighten around your middle and you hold your breath.

"Alright. But this doesn't mean we're back together."

You exhale and can feel Brittany's smile against your cheek.

"Okay. Tomorrow? At seven."

"Sure."

"Bye, Quinn."

"Bye, Noah." You hear the sound of the door shutting and you and Cass share a panicked look before you grab Brittany's arm and race back to the kitchen. You fall into your chair at the table and try to act casual. Brittany lands in your lap and Cass pretends to be messing with her camera. Quinn walks into the kitchen and you look up, faking aloofness.

"Hey, how'd it go?"

She shrugs, but the hint of a smile plays at her lips. "It was okay."

Cass rolls her eyes. "Are you going to get back together or not?" You fight the urge to slap her. Can she just make one comment that has even just a hint of subtlety behind it? Brittany smiles like she knows what you're thinking and kisses your forehead.

"I don't know, maybe."

"Why wouldn't you?"

Quinn sighs. "He's such a douche sometimes."

Brittany giggles. "Aw, but he loves you," she says, drawing out the last word.

"He's still a douche." Quinn shrugs again, but she's smiling, and that makes you think that everything with them is going to be just fine.

* * *

><p>You've officially decided that you like being a co-owner of Puckerman's. You get to do inventory now instead of always just working the front and it's a lot less stressful. It's kind of mundane, but it's nice and quiet and easy as you stock shelves and check them off Puck's prewritten list.<p>

You're jamming out to your iPod, clipboard in hand, when you feel hands on your ass. You whip around, fist raised and ready to sock the dick who thought it was okay to cop a feel because nobody touches your goods except for you and your lady. Your arm is swinging through the air when your brain registers the unknown person and it's too late to retract it. Your fist connects with a muscular shoulder as Puck reacts just in time to avoid getting punched in the face.

Your knuckles crack when your hand meets his strong bicep and you hiss out in pain. "Fuck!" Puck rubs his shoulder and laughs quietly as you yank one of your earphones out. "What the fuck are you doing, going around and slapping my ass like that? Fuck you."

Puck raises his hands defensively. "I called your name like three times. I had to get your attention."

"You couldn't just tap me on the shoulder, asshole?" You shake out your fingers in an attempt to get the prickling sensation to filter out.

Puck shoots you a smirk. "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're such an ass." You roll your eyes and return your attention to the bottles of wine you were just matching to the checklist.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Puck sits down on an overturned box.

You continue the inventory for a few minutes until you finally turn to Puck. "What do you want?"

He shrugs. "Actually I'm giving today. Puckzilla is in a good mood."

You snort as you continue down the row of bottles in front of you. "Fuck, someone call the president, this can't be good."

"Umm, fuck you, Santana, I'm a giving person, okay? I care about people and shit."

"Right."

He smirks. "If you don't want it, I won't give you my awesome present then."

You huff in defiance. "Fine. What?"

Puck grins and pulls out a rolled up magazine from his back pocket. You take it uneasily and unroll it. The Tiffany's logo jumps off the cover. "What the fuck is this?"

Puck smiles proudly. "So you can start looking for your engagement ring. I know you're going to marry Blondie."

Your jaw drops open. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Nope. Just a good friend, helping you grow the pair that you need to get your ass in gear. God knows that strap on you have at home isn't doing you any good."

You glare at him. "It's doing me plenty of good, thank you very much."

He shakes his head. "Not in the way you need it, Hoe-pez."

"Fuck you."

Puck shrugs. "Whatever man. Everyone knows that you want to. And everyone and their _mother_ knows that Brittany wants to."

You roll your eyes and turn back to your clipboard. "You don't know shit."

"Are you denying it?"

You shift uncomfortably, but don't say anything.

"You're not denying it."

"Don't you have some place else to be," you snap at him.

He just smirks in response. "Aw, little Lopez is afraid of her feelings."

You whip around. "You're one to talk, running out on Quinn like that."

He shrugs. "I already apologized. Things are looking up. I mean, she still won't say we're back together and she won't sleep with me, but whatever."

"You can't expect her to just come running back to you, loser. You hurt her."

"I know. We're taking it slow."

You sigh. "Kay, whatever."

Puck's voice softens. "Look, San, I'm not saying you have to buy her a goddamn ring tomorrow. I just know that you're thinking about it and thought I could give you a push in the right direction."

You rub the back of your neck awkwardly. "Right."

He gets up from where he's sitting and pats you on the shoulder. "Just think about it Lopez." He leaves you to your clipboard and loose bottles of Jim Beam waiting to be stocked and you scowl in frustration.

Fucking Puck.

He doesn't know shit.

* * *

><p>It's not Puck's voice in the back of your mind that has you finally flipping through the catalogue a few days later. It's Brittany.<p>

The idea of proposing has been tugging at your brain ever since Puck brought it up. But it's not his fault. You're not one to let some idiot tell you when you should propose to the girl you love, and you're definitely not one to feel pressured by someone else but yourself, but now the idea is in your mind, and you can't get rid of it.

You'd tell Puck to fuck off and shove the catalogue back in his ugly face, but you can't. Goddammit, you fucking can't.

It's just… ever since the thought, that little inkling of 'what if', had taken root in your brain, settling down for a long nap akin to hibernation, the universe seems to have tilted on its axis. And by that you mean Brittany has become even more unbelievably… perfect.

Everything she does, you swear to God, has your heart beating just that much faster, your smile growing just that much bigger, and your knees becoming just that much weaker.

It's how you returned home that night, after Puck tossed his stupid magazine at you, to Brittany dancing around the kitchen at two in the morning, covered in flour.

"_Britt-Britt… What are you doing?"_

"_Making brownies. Want some?" She turns to you, eyes twinkling, nose splotched with flour, and you melt._

_You can barely get out a strangled yeah before she's kissing you gently and sweetly, telling you that she missed you and couldn't fall asleep until you got back and she tastes chocolately, like she's been sticking her fingers in the batter or licking the spoon and god, your heart races and you can't remember the times when you used to come home to an empty apartment after work and pass out, sometimes on the couch, not even in your lonely bed._

"_I love you," she whispers, over and over again, and not even her brownies, with a dash of too much sugar, are as sweet as her._

It's how you step out of the shower the next morning, thanking God for Saturday's, and find Brittany and Cass in the middle of the living room, rapping to a song on the radio.

"_He a muthafuckin trip, trip, sailor of the ship, ship, when he make it drip, drip kiss him on the lip, lip, that's the kind of dude I was lookin' fo', and yes you'll get slapped if you're lookin' hoe."_

_Brittany laughs as Cass takes over. "I said, excuse me you're a hell of a guy, I mean my, my, my, my, you're like pelican fly, I mean, you're so shy and I'm loving your tie, you're like slicker than the guy with the thing on his eye, oh."_

_They both chime in at "Yes I did, yes I did, somebody please tell him who the eff I is, I am Nicki Minaj, I mack them dudes up, back coupes up, and chuck the deuce up!"_

_They both break out laughing as Cass tries to beat box and Brittany does a hysterical impression of the running man. Cass doubles over at the waist and Brittany grabs her in a headlock, Cass screaming at her to stop and Brittany yelling, "say it, say it!"_

"_Okay," Cass chokes out. "You rap harder than Nicki Manaj!" Brittany releases her and looks up at you with a grin and you can feel your smile growing bigger and bigger until your cheeks hurt._

"_Love you," she mouths, and you know you've never smiled so huge in your life._

It's how you're lying in bed on your next night off, staring at the dark ceiling and waiting for Britt to get back from her show, when she strolls into your room in her pretty black dress, heels sinking into the carpet.

_The door creaks open quietly, light spilling into the room, and you look over as Brittany closes the door and tiptoes closer to you._

"_Hey," you whisper. "How was the show?"_

"_Fine." She leans down and kisses you on the lips before standing up. You get a glance of her long legs until she disappears on her side of the bed. "I missed you though."_

"_I missed you, too." And you did, but you're just realizing now how much, because her dress is hugging her in all the right places, until suddenly it's not, as it falls to the floor. Your breath hitches in your throat because Brittany is wearing matching blue lace underwear and you swear if you were standing your legs would have given out._

_She seems to know what you're thinking because she smirks and slides down on top of you, leaving an inch of space between your bodies so your hands can run over her abs and up through her cleavage. She nips at your neck and even though it's late, you're not tired anymore, and even though you're lying down, you feel your knees shake as she whispers, "I love you, Santana," before stripping you of your underwear and making love to you so hard you forget you even have knees._

It's these thoughts that have you flipping through the fucking catalogue, eyes skimming over expensive diamonds and different types of bands that you had no idea existed. It makes you feel so overwhelmed that you almost chuck the thing in the trash, but you can't.

Goddammit, you fucking can't.

You try to hide it, but you're lost in your head, comparing different types of cuts to prices and if you can afford them, and you don't hear Cass walk into the apartment.

"What are you looking at?"

You jump as she plops down on the couch next to you, leaning in to see the magazine. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out, and your brain tells your hands to hide the fucking thing, but it seems your synapses aren't firing correctly at the moment.

Her forehead scrunches in confusion and she gently takes the thing out of your hands and flips to the cover. Her eyes widen as she flips back and forth from the cover to the page you were looking at.

"Ummm." You manage to choke out, and she looks up at you with a soft smile.

"Engagement rings?"

"I just…" You don't really know what you're going to say, so you stop trying and just let her casually thumb through the pages.

"Hmmm," she says in response. She lets her fingers run over a few examples, lips curled in a half smile. "Have you found one yet?"

You shake your head. "I'm just thinking about it, Cass. It's not for sure or anything."

"Okay," she hums out, like she doesn't really believe you, and you kind of don't believe you either.

"Don't tell Britt."

She rolls her eyes. "Duh, Tía, honestly." She points to a diamond with a brilliant cut. "I like that one. It's simple, but beautiful. Just like Britt."

You nod numbly, still extremely overwhelmed by the whole idea. Cass continues to point out rings that she likes for the next half hour while you stare at the pages and try to breathe properly.

"I can't afford any of these," you eventually choke out.

Cass shrugs. "So? There are a million jewelry stores in New York. I pass like, four on my way to school." She rolls her eyes. "Tiffany's is overrated anyway."

You breathe out a sigh. Right, how did you forget that?

"Where'd you get this anyway?"

"Puck."

"Puck?"

You shrug sheepishly. "Yeah."

She rolls her eyes again. "He's such a tool sometimes."

"He knew I wanted to get married before I knew I wanted to get married." Fuck you Puck.

Cass raises an eyebrow. "Seriously, Tía, everyone knows. I actually thought you might already have one of these." She points to the magazine.

"What?" Fuck you Cass.

"Yeah, Quinn and I have a bet to see who proposes first." Fuck everyone. "I chose you, don't worry."

You roll your eyes. "Thank God, I was really distraught. Thanks for clearing that up."

"Whatever." She slides her eyes back to the magazine before turning to you with an air of nonchalance. "So… are you going to?"

"I'm not doing it to help you win that bet."

She smiles softly. "I know you're not."

You sigh quietly, still overwhelmed by the whole thing. "I don't know. I'm still thinking about it."

"What's there to think about?"

You shoot her an incredulous look. "It's forever and always. I refuse to be that person who rushes into marriage only to get divorced. You don't just decide to do these things overnight."

Cass raises her eyebrows. "You chose to be my guardian on the spot."

You roll your eyes. "Come on, Cass. That's different."

"I don't see how."

You smirk slightly. "I can always give you back."

"Fuck you." She pushes your shoulder but laughs. "Okay, but seriously."

You sigh and run your hand through your hair. You don't get why everyone is pushing this on you. It's your decision. And yeah, you love Brittany, and can't really see why you would ever not love her or want to be with her. She's amazing and beautiful and she cares about you and Cass. She makes you pancakes in the morning and knows how to run her fingers over your stomach just right to make you shiver. She dances like a goddess and her smile makes you smile. She can get you to do anything with that ridiculous pout of hers and you would do anything to never see her cry.

But it's marriage. And this is serious. And just… fine, you're just a little nervous. Brittany is perfect, but are you good enough for marriage? Can you handle it?

"What if I screw things up?" You bite your lip and avoid Cass' eyes. You're not one to get insecure, but this is important.

Cass smiles gently. "Then you screw up. Brittany will forgive you. I think it's kind of inevitable that you're going to do something wrong sometimes. And I'm sure Britt will too. But if you love her enough, you'd forgive her right?" You nod slowly. "Okay. And she'll forgive you. That's how relationships work."

"I guess." You're still apprehensive. Well kind of. You're pretty sure you want to marry Brittany, but there's just that little nagging in the back of your mind that's telling you that you'll mess something up.

Cass just shrugs and smiles at you. "You'll figure it out."

You can only nod and hope that you do.

* * *

><p>The arrival of April brings an onslaught of heavy rain storms. New York is extra muggy and extra cold and you feel slightly miserable as you hide out in your apartment all day to avoid the wetness.<p>

You're curled up on the couch watching the Harry Potter marathon on TV with Cass' feet in your lap and a cup of coffee between your cold hands. The day has been passing ridiculously slowly, especially for a Sunday, which usually passes by way too fast in your opinion. Quinn and Brittany went shopping, but you decided to avoid the rain and stay in. Cass seems to share your opinion on the weather and chose to watch Harry fight a dragon and grow gills and save Edward Cullen from that guy with nasty hair and a missing finger. You don't understand this movie.

The door opens and you hear the sounds of squeaky rain boots and the rustling of bags before Brittany calls out, "Hey guys."

"Hey," you call back. Cass just grunts.

You feel hands cup your face and lean your neck back on the top of the couch so you're looking at Brittany upside down. "Your hands are cold."

She smiles and leans forward until her hair is curtaining your face. "Sorry." She smiles and her face scrunches up adorably. "I got you something."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She bends down and you hear crinkling before she stands back up with her hands behind her back. "Okay, ready?"

You see Cass looking at you curiously out of the corner of your eye and you nod, trying to contain your sudden curiosity. Brittany blushes slightly, but pulls a daisy out from behind her back. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion and you look up at her.

"A daisy?"

Brittany nods and the tips of her ears turn bright red. "I thought it was pretty."

You tilt your head to the side and can't help the smile that breaks across your face. That is _so_ Brittany. "It is. What's the occasion?"

"There are two actually."

"Two occasions?"

"Yeah." Brittany nods and holds up one finger. "The first is because it reminds me of the sun and I know how much you hate the rain, so I thought I could bring you a little ray of sunshine." Brittany shrugs cutely and you breathe out a laugh.

"Okay, and what's the second occasion?"

"It's April Fool's Day."

You cautiously hold the flower away from. You forgot that was today. "April Fool's Day?"

"Yep." Brittany nods and you wait for the punch line, the embarrassing prank, the joke that will undoubtedly come any second now.

When nothing happens after a few seconds, you look back at Brittany nervously. "I don't get it. What does April Fool's Day have to do with anything?"

It seems Brittany was waiting for you to ask because her eyes light up and she smiles brightly. "Because I'm a fool for you, San. Duh."

You blink once, twice, three times, before you're smiling goofily and laughing. Cass rolls her eyes and turns back to the TV and Brittany leans back down to place a kiss on your lips. "I love you," she murmurs against your lips and you kind of want to die from happiness.

"Love you, too." Brittany smiles some more at you and from upside down she looks weird and deformed. You laugh some more before Brittany leaves the room to put her new clothes away.

You smile down at your flower and notice Cass smirking out of the corner of you. "What?" You ask her, but your voice lacks the bite you intended to have.

"Nothing. Just starting to think I'm coming closer and closer to winning the bet every day."

"Oh shut up." You roll your eyes, but you kind of think so too.

* * *

><p>It shouldn't have been the deciding factor, really. It wasn't big, or important. But it made the decision for you, in any case.<p>

Nearly a week later, the rain finally lightened up to a slow drizzle and the day had you out of coffee. You don't usually try to squeeze another day out of the grains, but you somehow always put off buying another bag until you're already out and in need of some serious caffeine.

So this is how you find yourself at that coffee place down the street that you seem to frequent way too often for your liking.

It's busy because it's Saturday, so you and Cass find a table while Brittany orders. You sit down in one of the only open tables, all the way in the back, but that's okay, because it's quieter back here and it's by a window.

You stare through the glass and watch the busy business people scurry by while shooting annoyed looks at tourists who have stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to look at maps and point their flashy cameras at the nearby architecture. You don't really get it. They should go down a few blocks, this part of the street is mostly residential buildings. But that's New York for you.

Cass unzips the backpack she brought and takes out her sketchpad and pencils. Her fingers move across the page delicately and you feel like you're intruding by watching so you look back out the window again. Your breath fogs up the glass and you run your finger over it, tracing out a small heart before the fog fades and all that's left on the window is smudges from your fingers.

You feel Brittany slide in next to you and she places a cup in front of you and a Frappuccino in front of Cass. You don't understand how she can drink those when it's so cold.

"Here, San." Brittany passes you a small brown bag and you quirk an eyebrow before peeking inside. "I got you one of those cinnamon bread things because they _never_ have them and I know you like them and they only had two left. Seemed lucky." She smiles and kisses you on the cheek before taking a sip of her own coffee and asking Cass what she's working on.

You miss the answer because you're staring down at the little pastry, covered in sugar and enriched with cinnamony goodness and you feel a lump grow in your throat. You don't know why. It's not big, or important. It's a tiny little piece of coffee cake that you happen to love and the coffee shop always seems to have run out of every time you stop by.

But Brittany. Brittany knew you liked them. And she saw one in the little glass case by the register and she thought to get you one, even though she just made you a big breakfast like an hour ago. You don't understand it. You don't understand why tears are prickling your eyes and it feels like your heart has melted into a bigger puddle than the taxi drivers still splash you with as you walk down the street.

And even as Brittany rips off the corner of the little cake and pops it into her mouth with a small laugh, you don't understand why she is so perfect and how _this_ can make you love a person so much. It just doesn't make sense.

It seems that the only thing that makes sense is that you want to spend the rest of your life with this girl, this wonderful, kind, thoughtful, beautiful girl.

It wasn't big, or important. But that's what made the decision for you, and you had never been so sure of a decision in your entire life.

* * *

><p>"Tía, where are we going?"<p>

You roll your eyes and continue to tug Cass down the street, Quinn following close behind. "We're almost there, relax." You turn the corner and weave in and out of pedestrians until you're standing in front of the building you're looking for.

"Oh." Quinn lets out a laugh. "I see."

"Oh my God." Cass' eyes widen before she turns to Quinn, smirking. "Fuck yes, you owe me twenty bucks Quinn!"

You roll your eyes as Quinn crosses her arms. "She hasn't proposed yet, Cass, so technically, no I don't. For all we know, Brittany could propose tonight and then _you'll _owe _me_ twenty big ones."

"You guys are so annoying." You open the door to the small jewelry shop and usher them in. "I brought you guys here to help me, not to argue about your ridiculous bet."

"Sorry, but not sorry, Tía. This is serious business."

"It's twenty bucks."

Cass opens her mouth to argue, but a small ginger woman approaches you. She's dressed nicely and you assume she works here. "Hello, how can I help you today?"

"I'm looking for an engagement ring," you tell her.

The lady smiles brightly. "Beautiful. Do you know what you're looking for?"

"Not really," you admit.

"That's okay." The lady motions for you to follow her. "I'm Emma, by the way." She walks behind one of the long counters and you look inside the glass cases as you walk past. Diamonds and emeralds and opals stick out brightly and you start to feel overwhelmed again. Cass and Quinn are somewhere behind you, pointing at something in a case and laughing.

You look up at Emma when she stops and smile shyly at her. "Santana."

"Well, hello, Santana. Don't worry, most of the people that come in here have no idea what they're looking for either. You're definitely in the majority."

You nod absentmindedly as your eyes roam over the rings below you, strategically placed to catch your attention.

"Why don't you look around and if you see something that you like, we can build off of that."

"Thank you." You smile at Emma again and she nods.

"Try not to touch the glass though." She shoots you a pointed look and you quickly remove your hands from where they were resting on top of the glass case. Emma leaves you to browse and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"Hey. You okay?" Quinn presses against your shoulder, looking at the rings in the case in front of you.

"I think so." You watch as she bends down to get a closer look at a ring with a heart shaped diamond in the center. "Do you have any idea what Brittany would want?"

Quinn looks up at you and smiles. "Well, knowing Brittany, she'll probably be happy with anything."

You groan. "That's not exactly helpful, Q."

"Okay, okay." She holds up her hands as a thoughtful look crosses her face. "Alright, Brittany would probably want something simple. Something that doesn't boast about anything, but is still beautiful and conveys the gentleness of your relationship."

You stare at her. "How the fuck am I supposed to find something like that?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, look around."

You sigh and glance at the case of rings apprehensively. Nothing is really standing out. They're all pretty, but none of them seem like Brittany. Quinn is smiling fondly at a few of them and you wonder how her relationship is going. "How are you and Puck?"

She turns to you with a look of surprise on her face. "Fine."

"Just fine?" You raise your eyebrows and she shrugs.

"We're like, kind of together again. But I don't know, it feels different now. He's being so weird."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "He's being extra… attentive and like, romantic. It's freaking me out." She turns back to the counter and runs her fingers across the glass.

"Don't touch the glass," you hiss out. You can practically feel Emma's glare from across the room. Quinn shoots you a weird look, but removes her fingers from the glass. "Anyway," you continue after a beat. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Quinn sighs. "I don't know, S. I guess, but I just want him to be Puck. Not some guy who's trying too hard."

"Hmmm." You nod and look over your shoulder. Cass is still looking at a case on the other side of the store. "You love him, though." Quinn nods reluctantly. "Good, because he loves you and both of you were hot messes without the other."

Quinn cracks a smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You know you like it when I spend ridiculous amounts of time pestering you in your own apartment. Don't try to hide it."

You shrug indifferently. "I don't care either way." Which is kind of a lie. You like Quinn's company a lot, but it's not like you're ever going to admit that to her.

"Yeah, whatever, S."

"Hey, Tía, check this out!"

You look over to where Cass is now standing a few cases down from you. "What?"

"Come here." She waves you over and you leave Quinn where she's still crouched down on the floor.

"What?" You say again as you get closer.

She points to a few rings that have small stones embedded in the bands. "I really like those."

You tilt your head to the side and look at them closer. They're pretty. "Yeah, they're nice."

"Have you found anything?" You shake your head no. "Hmmm. Well, keep looking." You roll your eyes and go back to browsing the cases. "So…" Cass says after a minute.

"So…"

"I've been meaning to tell you something."

You look at her curiously. "Okay…"

Her lips curve up minutely. "I've been looking at that list of schools you gave me."

"Oh." You had kind of forgotten about her college thing since before the trial.

"Yeah. And I think I want to stay in New York for school."

You quirk an eyebrow. "Yeah? Why's that?"

She shrugs. "I like it here. The city is awesome. I don't want to go back to some small town."

"Yeah, it's definitely exciting here."

"Plus I know it's cheaper to stay in state."

You look at her quizzically. "Money isn't that much of an issue. You can apply for a few scholarships, but your dad has an account set up for you."

"Oh, I know." She waves her hand in the air. "But I also know that you and Brittany have an account for me and I'm really grateful for that… and I figured I could do you a favor and keep it cheap."

You smile softly. "You should go where you want to go. We can always get loans."

"I want to go here." Her cheeks turn a shade darker. "I just… I don't really want to move away from you and Britt. Especially now, if you're getting married."

You laugh quietly. "Oh I see. You'll miss me."

She shakes her head. "Shut up."

You smirk, before a thought occurs to you. "Wait, how did you know that we set an account up for you?"

She shrugs. "Well, Brittany told me the morning I got back, after you stormed off to your bedroom. She said that you had set one up and she wanted to help out. I don't think she meant to tell me, but I think she felt bad about getting mad after I told her what happened with my dad."

"Hmmm."

"Yeah." Cass bumps her hip against yours and you smile slightly. A band in the case catches your eye and you look at it curiously. There are tiny studs in the band, two on each side of the center. "So, yeah, I'd really like to be close to you guys and I know there are some really good art schools here. My teacher told me that a few representatives from some of the schools here are going to be at the gallery opening for our projects."

"Oh yeah. How's that coming?" You listen to her response with one ear, but you're focused on the case in front of you.

"Good, the opening is next month."

"I like that one." You point to the band that caught your eye and Cass leans forward to get a closer look.

"I like that one, too." She smiles at you.

"Think Britt will like it?"

Cass shrugs. "I think Brittany will like anything."

"Why do you people keep saying that, it's not helpful." You roll your eyes and you hear Quinn laugh from a few cases down.

"It's true, S."

"Whatever." You turn back to Cass. "What do you think?"

She tilts her head to the side. "Well, what kind of diamond in the center?"

You purse your lips, unsure. "Umm. A round one?"

Cass snorts out a laugh. "Right. You clearly have no idea what you're doing." She catches Emma's eye and waves her over.

"Did you find something you like?"

"Yeah." Cass points to the band you like. "She likes that band, but she's not sure of what cut to get."

Emma smiles. "That is a very beautiful band. Okay," she turns to you. "Did you have a certain style in mind."

You look back at her uncertainly. "Round?"

Emma laughs and nods. "Follow me." She leads you to another case, with examples of different large cut diamonds in them. You see a few different round styles and look closer. You point to one that looks similar to the image you've created in your head.

"That one is pretty."

Emma nods. "It is. Do you know what size you'd like?"

You and Emma discuss different size options and prices for a few minutes and then she retrieves the band from the case and tells you she's going to go write down the details of how you want it before walking through a door that you assume leads to the back. You sigh in relief, glad that you found something good.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Cass laughs and you shove her lightly.

"Whatever." You absentmindedly look at the other rings in the cases while you're waiting for Emma. You try to form a sentence in your head to ask Cass what you're thinking about. You decide to just be blunt about it.

"Cass."

"Yeah?" She diverts her gaze from the case and her eyes land on you.

"I was thinking…" You pause and she waits for you to continue. You clear your throat. "I want you to be my maid of honor. You know… if Brittany says yes."

She quirks an eyebrow. "If Brittany says yes? Why wouldn't she say yes?"

You shrug. "I don't know."

"I think she's going to say yes. You don't have to worry."

You huff out a sigh, annoyed. "Okay, whatever." There's a few moments of silence, but Cass doesn't say anything else and you get impatient. "So, will you?"

"Will I what?" She's not looking at you, but you can see her smirk.

"Don't be difficult."

She turns back to you. "Of course I will, loser."

"Yeah?" You feel relief flood through you.

"Yeah." Cass smiles brightly and wraps you up in an unexpected hug. You squeeze her back tightly and let out a happy laugh.

Emma comes back and you let go of Cass. Quinn saddles up to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"This might be the best twenty bucks I ever lose," she whispers in your ear and you can't stop smiling.

Emma tells you that they have to size the ring and tweak the diamond, but that it should be ready to go in a week or so.

As you leave the small shop, you can't help the happy feeling that floods through your chest. You have a well-paying job, family by your side, great friends, and you're going to ask the girl you love to marry you.

It doesn't get much better than that.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Hi readers, sorry again for the wait. Midterms suck and I got sick and drugged myself last weekend when I had intended to do this instead. I sincerely apologize. Anyway, here's the last chapter, I hope you like it. Stick around for the epilogue! Until next time! Angie

* * *

><p>Your hands are shaking as you stare at the little box in your hand. The ring catches the light, splaying small rainbow prisms on the wall and you can feel your breathing start to become erratic. The diamond in the middle sparkles and the band is as shiny as it was the day you picked it up from the jeweler's a few weeks ago. It is unbelievably beautiful and you know it will look perfect once you slip it on Brittany's finger…<p>

"What are you doing?"

You jump, startled, and snap the box shut before cramming it between your legs. You look up frantically and bring a hand to your racing heart when you see it's just Cass. "Jesus. Don't creep up on me like that. I thought you were Britt."

She smirks before taking the seat next to you on the couch and propping her legs in your lap. You roll your eyes. "Sorry," Cass laughs out. "Maybe you shouldn't stare at that thing in the middle of the family room, though." She points to the box. "Let me see it again."

You reluctantly pass the box to her, uneasy about letting it out of your hands. You've been carrying it around in your pocket since the second Emma had handed it to you. Cass smiles slightly as she opens the box and you watch as the rainbow prisms now appear on her skin. One on her cheek, another on her forehead.

"Why have you waited so long? Just do it."

You grimace slightly and your eyebrows pull together. "I just… have to take care of some things first." You can feel your heart pounding at the thought.

"Like what? If you don't hurry, she's going to do it first."

You glare at her. "I don't give a shit about your stupid bet."

Cass shrugs. "I'm just saying."

You sigh and take the box back from her, careful not to touch the ring and get your fingerprints all over it. "Whatever."

Cass shifts her feet on your lap and you bring your hand down to cup them so they'll be still. "So what do you have to do?" Her voice is tinged with impatience and curiosity.

Your eyes involuntarily shift to the phone sitting on the coffee table. You clear your throat. "I have to call her dad and ask if it's okay." The thought kind of makes you nauseous.

Cass' feet twitch under your hands. "You _what_?" She laughs disbelievingly. "Tía, are you serious?"

You nod carefully. "Yeah."

She snorts. "He's not going to say yes!"

"Thanks for your support."

Cass drops her feet from your lap and sits up. "Okay, sorry. But seriously? Do you _not_ remember what happened the only time you've ever even met the dude?"

"Oh, yeah, I _completely_ forgot about that. See, that's why I haven't called yet. I just don't want to run up this month's minutes." You roll your eyes and scowl at her.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Wow, bitchy much?"

You raise your hands, exasperated. "Well, what, did you think I could just forget that?"

She shrugs. "People who are in love do all kinds of delusional things. And you're like, totally insane to begin with, so…"

You slump further into the couch. "Oh, fuck you," you say dejectedly.

"Hey." She prods you with her foot. "Why do you need to call him?"

"I already told you."

Cass rolls her eyes. "I mean, why do you need his permission?"

You look at the box in your hands. "I don't really." She doesn't say anything so you sigh and continue. "Like, I just want his acceptance, okay? I don't need it. If he says no, I'm still going to ask her. But I just really want him to be okay with it."

She stares at you for a moment. "Okay, so what are you waiting for?"

You stare back at her. "What if he says no?"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I just said!" You breathe out heavily, trying to calm yourself. "I'm still nervous."

She rolls her eyes again. "Okay, well just do it and get it over with and then you can propose and I can rightfully collect my twenty bucks."

You glare at her. "This is not about you."

Cass remains silent, but reaches over and pushes your phone toward you. You push it back.

"Do it."

"Not right now."

"I don't see any better opportunities. Brittany isn't here and you know she won't be back from her show for another few hours." She slides the phone back to you. "Just do it."

Your eyes flicker back and forth from the phone to Cass' steady gaze on you.

"Do you have his number?"

You timidly nod. "I got it out of Britt's phone."

"Alright then. You got this."

You take a deep breath and try to swallow your nerves. You pick up the phone and it almost slips through your clammy hands. You tighten your grip on it before finding the right number. Your finger hovers over the call button. Cass prods you with her foot again.

"You got this, I'm right here. It doesn't matter what he says."

You nod and muster up all the courage you have. You squeeze your eyes shut and quickly and determinedly press the button. The dial tone sounds harsh in your ears. It cuts out after the third ring.

"_You've got Daniel Pierce."_

Your breath hitches in your throat at Mr. Pierce's gruff voice filtering through the line. Your hand fists the couch beneath you in a panic.

"_Hello?"_

"Ummm. Hi. Mr. Pierce. It's Santana." You clear your throat. "Santana Lopez."

"_Santana?"_

Your grip on the couch tightens. "Brittany's girlfriend."

"_Hi, yes, I know who you are. Sorry, I was just surprised for a moment."_

"Oh. Yeah. Hello."

Cass rolls her eyes at you.

"_What can I do for you, Santana?"_

You feel nerves bubble up in your stomach. "I was just calling…" You clear your throat again. Come on, Lopez, you can do this. "You see, sir. I know we didn't part on the best of terms at Christmas, but the truth is that I really love your daughter." You pause, but continue when you're met with silence on the other end.

"I know you care about Brittany very much and only want what is best for her. But with all due respect sir, I think I'm that person."

"_Is that so?"_ Mr. Pierce's voice sounds lighter, or maybe that's just the phone connection.

You nod, even though he can't see you. Cass is staring at you intently. "Yes, sir. And if not, I want to try my hardest to be." You take a deep breath and Cass gives you an encouraging smile. "See, Brittany means the world to me. She makes my day brighter and when I see her smile, I smile too. I can't stand to see her cry. And I know that sometimes I'm the cause of her tears, but I will try every day to make her the happiest she can be. I could go on and on about how great Brittany is, but I'm sure you already know. So I'll just get right down to the point." You take another deep breath. "I'd really like to marry your daughter, sir. And it would mean the world to both me and Brittany if we had your blessing."

There's a pause on the other end and you pull the phone away from your ear, but the connection is still intact.

"_Wait, are you not engaged already?"_

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Umm, no sir. I wanted to get your permission first."

"_Oh."_

Cass tilts her head to the side. "What did he say?"

You lift a shoulder in response to her. "Sir?"

"_Sorry, Santana. I was just under the impression you were already engaged."_

"You were?"

"_Yes. Brittany… well never mind."_ There's another pause and you don't really know what to say. _"Santana, can I speak openly with you for a moment?"_

You swallow nervously. "Yes, sir."

"_I was a little put off by your… situation at Christmas. And I want to apologize for that. It will take me some time to get used to it, but to be honest, Brittany really is old enough to know what is best for her. And she seems to think that person is you, as well."_

"She does?" You splutter out.

"_She does. If you make her happy Santana, then I guess I will just have to accept it as it is."_

Your mouth drops open. "You will?"

Mr. Pierce chuckles. _"Yes, I will. Of course, I am still trying to understand, but if you love my daughter as much as she loves you, I will not be the one to stand in your way."_

"I…" You smile brightly. "Thank you, sir."

"_You have my blessing."_ Mr. Pierce laughs again. "_I hope you don't do anything to make me retract it."_

You laugh too. "I'll do my best. Thank you so much, Mr. Pierce."

"_Sure, Santana. I actually have to get back to work, but let us know how everything goes."_

"I will."

"_Goodbye, Santana."_

"Bye, sir." You hang up the phone and lean back into the couch. A happy laugh escapes your lips.

"So, I take it he said yes?" Cass smiles brightly at you. You can't help but beam back.

"Yes."

She shakes her head in amusement. "Weird." You nod in agreement. "So when are you going to pop the question?"

You think about it. "Saturday. After your art show."

Her eyes widen. "That's in two days!"

You nod eagerly. "Sure is."

"Wow. I thought you'd at least need another week to grow a pair."

You giggle, high on Mr. Pierce's approval. "Yeah, well, I figure I'd win you that twenty dollars."

She pushes your leg with her foot. "Ha! I knew you'd give in to the bet."

You shove her back playfully. "Yeah, whatever. I better get half the cut."

She pushes you again and you get into a shoving match. Cass laughs loudly as a forceful push from you sends her rolling off the couch. "No, I need that money to get into college. You wouldn't leave me for broke, Tía, would you?"

"Oh, shut up." You laugh happily and excitement floods through your body.

You're going to propose in two days.

Suddenly you panic slightly.

Shit.

You're going to propose in two days.

* * *

><p>Rays of sun fall softly on your face as you walk swiftly down the street to meet Kurt and Rachel for coffee. The May air feels reflective of your excited nervousness. The wind nips lightly at your skin, but the sun beams down, allowing you to soak up its gentle warmth.<p>

When you reach the café, you feel a slight weight of anxiety drop into your stomach. You don't like admitting you're wrong, even if it's for the best thing you've ever been wrong about. You sigh as you make your way to the small table where Kurt and Rachel are sitting.

"…and then Blaine begged me to keep him. I couldn't say no, but now I'm absolutely lost on what to do. Rachel, he bit a hole through my best Armani suit. A _hole_! Through my _Armani_!"

"Kurt. Your gay is showing." You sit down next to Rachel and raise your eyebrows at him.

"Hello Santana." Rachel chuckles lightly. "Kurt was just telling me about the stray Blaine found and which Kurt _refuses_ to throw out of the house."

Kurt scoffs and leans back in his chair. "Honestly, I couldn't say no. I don't know who was giving me bigger puppy eyes, Leonardo or Blaine."

"Leonardo?"

Kurt shrugs. "As in DiCapprio." Your incredulous look is mirrored on Rachel's face and Kurt rolls his eyes. "What? If Blaine insisted on us keeping the mutt, I adamantly and rightfully argued that I should get to name him. It's only fair!"

A giggle escapes your lips. "Really? Please don't tell me you have one of those rat dogs and you named it Leonardo. I won't be friends with you anymore."

"No!" Kurt practically face palms. "He's giant! And he leaves his hair all over the furniture!"

"What kind of dog?"

"I'm not sure… some kind of cross breed or something." Kurt laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. "But enough about me and my puppy problems. Rachel said you have important news?"

You nod as your nervousness returns. "I do."

"Okay…"

You glance from the Kurt's curious gaze to Rachel's expectant one and clear your throat. "I know it's kind of bad luck, to tell you before it's a for sure thing, but… I'm asking Brittany to marry me."

Kurt coughs on a sip of his coffee. "What?"

"I'm going to propose to Brittany," you say, your voice a little more confident and determined.

"Oh my God!" Rachel squeals. "This is wonderful news, Santana! And here I was, thinking you had been evicted or fired or someone was in the hospital!"

You look at her strangely. "Why would I tell you if someone was in the hospital over coffee?"

She shrugs and a dash of red creeps into her cheeks. "I tend to overdramatize situations in my head."

"Right." You take a deep breath before continuing. "So I just wanted to say… you were right." They both give you quizzical looks and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes or say something rude. "For you know, pushing me in the right direction to help me get my life on a more… positive track, I guess."

Rachel beams. "I appreciate your gratefulness, Santana! And of course, I would do it again in a heartbeat."

You smile gratefully at her. Despite you and Rachel having drifted slightly apart since high school (you both have your own lives now), you know you can always count on her. "Thanks, Rach."

Kurt smiles gently at you. "Well, congratulations! I know you'll let me pick out your wedding dress, won't you?" He gives you a playfully stern look that you know means you better let him plan whatever the fuck he wants when it comes to your wedding.

"Of course." You smile back at him. "It's not for sure, though. I mean, she could still say no." You shrug nonchalantly, but the thought has your insides twisting uncomfortably.

"When are you asking her?"

"Tomorrow."

"Well, good luck, then." Kurt claps excitedly. "I know it'll be fine!" You nod in agreement. You hope it'll be fine too.

"Well, first marriage. Then… a dog!" Rachel lifts her shoulder playfully and laughs.

"Yeah, fuck no." You shake your head. "I'll just leave that up to Lady Lips and his Armani munching pup." You stand up to go order your coffee, leaving the two at the table to continue their amused discussion.

"_Armani_, Rachel. _ Armani!"_

Yeah, you can see marriage in your future, but there is no way you're getting a dog.

* * *

><p>"Lopez! Come on!"<p>

You roll your eyes as you finish applying a thin layer of lip gloss. "Chill out, Puckerman. Quinn said she'll text us when she's in the cab."

You can hear him grumbling from the other side of your bedroom door. "You've been getting ready for an hour! You're such a girl."

"Glad you've noticed." You cap the lip gloss and throw it in your clutch. "Besides, this is an important night. You could at least try to not be a dickhead about it." With a last look in the mirror, you walk out of your bedroom and down the hall. Puck is unattractively slumped on the couch. Your phone buzzes and you pull it out.

**Quinn: **On my way

You slip your phone back into your purse before hitting Puck in the head with the bag.

"Ow, Lopez, what the fuck?"

"Quinn's on her way. Get up, you're wrinkling your nice shirt."

Puck stands up and runs a hand over his shirt with a scowl. "Yes, mother." He runs his eyes over your outfit. "Damn, girl. You clean up nice."

You swat at his shoulder but can't help the smile that creeps across your face. "Keep your leering to yourself. Besides that ridiculous landing strip on your head, you don't look half bad, either." And he doesn't, in his button up blue polo shirt and tan slacks.

He shrugs sheepishly. "This is like, one of the only nice shirts I have."

That doesn't really surprise you and a small laugh escapes your lips. "Well, you don't want it getting wrinkled then." You look around the apartment, double checking that it's clean and all ready to go for tonight. Your legs feel shaky as you think about it, but you force the nervousness away. There will be enough time to be nervous later.

Puck places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a soft smile. "It's going to be fine, Santana."

"Yeah." It comes out kind of quiet and you clear your throat.

"If she says no, you can come over and I'll make you some awesome new drinks I've been trying out."

You mock glare at him. "That's not exactly reassuring."

He shrugs indifferently. "I just tell it how it is."

"Right." Your phone buzzes again and you glance at it before shrugging on your jacket. "Quinn's here."

"Alright," Puck says with a smile. "Let's do this thing."

* * *

><p>The art show is at a nice hotel a few blocks away from Cass' school. Puck whistles lowly as you walk through the lobby and you roll your eyes. Signs point you in the direction of the exhibit and you follow them, eager to see the work that has been taking up so much of Cass' time.<p>

As you step into a large room, your eyes widen in astonishment. Small exhibits are set up all over the room, from paintings to drawings, small and large. Nicely dressed students and adults wander around, talking and examining the works of art. The sounds of happy laughter and bright appraisal reach your ears as you walk farther into the room.

Quinn tugs on your hand and you follow her to the closest project. You tilt your head to the side in an attempt to understand the paintings. You finally see what Cass meant about comparing and contrasting two things. The paintings on the left are moments during the day – ducks swimming on a lake, a man and woman in the park – and the images on the right were the same moments, but at night. The project was titled A Day in the Night, which you didn't think was overly clever, but whatever.

"That's a kind of cool," Puck says behind you. You just shrug and let Quinn lead you to the next kid's station. She seems much more interested in this than you, but you guess that's to be expected. You just want to see Cass' stuff.

You look around the small room, eyes roaming over all the students, but you don't see her anywhere. She had to come early to help set up, but it seems she is MIA now.

"Do you see Cass?" You ask out loud.

Puck looks around, but shakes his head. "She's probably off getting into trouble somewhere."

You roll your eyes and slap him slightly on the arm. "Shut up." He laughs and pushes you and you hit him back until Quinn makes a shushing sound.

"Can you two please act like adults?"

"Whatever, Fabray."

"Sorry, babe."

Quinn smiles slightly and turns back to the art work, long hair swishing over her blue dress delicately. You notice her and Puck are matching and internally gag. Aren't they so freaking charming?

You follow Quinn as she makes her way around the room, not really giving any of the art work more than a passing glance. You're starting to get antsy. After this you're proposing to Brittany. You open your clutch to make sure the ring is in there, glad to see that you didn't leave it on the kitchen table. You can only imagine what would happen if she had come home from her show and found it with you nowhere in sight.

"S." Quinn pokes you in the side.

"What?" Your head snaps up and she points to the work you're currently looking at. You squint your eyes at the title before they widen in surprise. The title of the work is Surviving to Living (you give it a six for creativity), and written just under that, in elegant script, is _Cassandra Velasquez_.

"Oh." You feel a smile tugging at your lips as you recognize some familiar images on the left and underneath the word _Surviving_. A ceiling fan, amidst a bright white backdrop. A coffee mug, its broken edges exaggeratedly jagged and sharp, dark liquid flooding out of it. A tree, overly-thin limbs weighed down by snow. A row of tan lockers, the one at the end broken and hanging down sadly.

Cass recreated the pictures she sent you, with a darker twist on them, giving them a desperate and heavy feel that makes your heart twist strangely.

You turn to the right side of the work, eyes trailing over the word _Living_, and down to the paintings below it. You don't recognize them, but they seem familiar to you. The top one looks strangely similar to your fire escape, stairs disappearing into the bottom of the painting, overturned trash can up against the wall. The brick building is the only thing missing, a fiery sunset falling on the skyline taking its place.

The second painting makes you smile slightly. It looks down on a table where a hand is wrapped gently around a coffee cup. Napkins and a pastry litter the table but the focus is in the center, where one hand is clutched tightly around another, smaller, hand.

The next painting is outside, the setting similar to Battery Park. Buildings close in on the sides, and a body of water is visible in the distance. The bottom of the painting shows a white canvas resting on the sidewalk, surrounded by cans of spray paint and a jar filled halfway with money.

The last painting is a setting that is only too familiar to you. An empty bar, stools hugging the counter and half-full glasses sitting on top. Lights reflect a comforting glow off the polished wood of the bar and bottles of liquor line the wall behind it. A relaxed sensation flows over you as you look at it and you can't help but revel in the sure brush strokes that make up the counter, or the shadows that echo off of the empty glasses.

"Hey, San, look, it's the bar." Puck's gruff voice sounds in your ear and you nod in agreement. "That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, it is."

Quinn puts an arm around your shoulder. "She's amazing, S." You nod again, unable to find any words to describe how you're feeling. Quinn squeezes your shoulder before grabbing Puck's hand and moving on to the next kid's project.

You stand in front of Cass' paintings and the longer you stare, the bigger your smile gets. You guess the title of her project isn't that creative or profound, but it _means_ something, and it's making that strange fuzzy feeling take over your body. The one you get when Brittany wakes you up with kisses or Puck cracks a funny joke when you're working or Quinn bickers playfully with you over lunch. It's that warm fuzzy feeling that means you're _happy_. Utterly and truly happy.

And not only happy, but proud. You're proud of what you've done with your life, proud that you could help turn someone else's around. You're proud of Cass for her amazing paintings, and for the special person she's become since she came to you at the end of summer, bitter and unhappy. You're proud of the life the two of you seem to have settled into together, at first forced and awkward, now simple and natural.

You can't believe so much has changed in the last nine months.

You feel arms wrap around you from behind and you stiffen, startled, until a quiet voice floats to your ears. "Howdy there, gorgeous. Someone as pretty as yourself shouldn't be all alone, now, should you?"

You laugh and turn around, gaze meeting shining blue. "Babe, that was the worst southern accent I've ever heard."

Brittany laughs and shrugs her shoulders, arms still loosely wrapped around your hips. "Ah, well, I tried."

You shake your head and smile, hand coming up to touch her cheek. "What are you doing here? I thought you had your show."

Brittany leans into your palm and smiles brightly. "It was about to start when I realized I had somewhere more important to be tonight."

"So you just left?"

She shrugs again. "Jesse said it wasn't that necessary that I stay anyway. It's been going on for so long that I'm not really needed to oversee much anymore. The dancers have everything down perfect."

"Hmmm. Well, I like your dress." Your eyes rake over the black dress, hugging Brittany's hips and showing off her long legs. Her ears turn red and she leans in to kiss you lightly.

"Yours too." She pulls back and glances over your shoulder. You turn around and look back at Cass' paintings. Brittany's chin settles on your shoulder and you lean back into her arms.

"These are so beautiful," she whispers in your ear.

"Aren't they?"

She nods and you feel her smile against your cheek. "It's kind of cool, if you think about it."

You look at her out of the corner of your eye. "What is?"

"That she's happy here." Brittany's arms squeeze tighter around your waist. "That we make her happy. You, me. Puck. Quinn." She chuckles slightly and nudges you, pointing somewhere to the right. "Crater."

You turn to follow her line of sight and chuckle quietly. Off to the side of the room, away from the all commotion of the exhibits, the boy you met as Crater, dressed in slacks and a purple shirt and black tie, picks up Cass and swings her around. They're both laughing and you watch as Cass swats at his hands until he puts her back on the ground. She adjusts her red dress and tucks her hair behind her ear and you don't think you've ever seen her shy before. The boy beams and leans down to kiss her and you smile and look away.

Brittany giggles in your ear. "They're so cute."

"That kid better watch himself," you say, but you secretly agree that they're kind of adorable together.

Brittany just smiles knowingly and moves closer to Cass' paintings to get a better look. You tilt your head to the side and look at Brittany looking at Cass' art and that happy feeling fills you up again.

"Tía," you hear from behind you and turn to see Cass walking toward you.

"Hey," you say. "Don't you look pretty tonight?"

She shrugs and looks away, but you detect the hint of a smile crossing her face. "So," she says eventually.

"So," you volley back.

"Did you like it?" She nods her chin toward her project and you smile.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" She looks unsure.

"I think it's amazing."

She cocks her head to the side, eyebrows furrowed like she doesn't believe you. "You do?"

"Totally." You smile at her again and you see the recognition in her eyes that means she understands that you get it, the surviving, living, Ohio, New York, there, here thing going on.

"Oh," she says and her cheeks turn a shade darker.

You reach forward and pull her into a hug and after a moment she squeezes back before letting go. She turns to hide her smile, but you still catch it.

"Hey Britt. I didn't know you were coming."

Brittany spins around from where she was looking at the artwork and smiles. "Cass! Of course I came, I wouldn't miss this." She easily wraps her arms around Cass and you see Cass awkwardly pat her back.

"Oh," Cass says when Brittany finally let's her go. "Well, thanks."

"Your stuff is super awesome."

Cass beams. "Aw, well thank you."

"Guys, guess what." Puck appears out of nowhere. "Quinn just jacked us a bottle of champagne from the hotel bar."

"What?" Your eyes widen incredulously.

"Yeah." He nods excitedly. "It was awesome!"

Quinn appears beside him. "Noah, you're going to get us caught if you don't shut up." She looks over and sees Cass. "Oh, Cass, hey."

"Hi Quinn."

Quinn points at the paintings behind you. "I'm proud of you. Nice work."

Cass smiles modestly as Quinn pulls her into a hug. "Thanks, Q."

Quinn shrugs. "It's just the truth. You have serious potential."

Cass clears her throat shyly. "Actually about that. This guy came up to me and he was from some art school in Brooklyn and he gave me his information and said I should come visit the school. He said with a good application I could get in."

"No way," Brittany gasps out. "That's awesome!"

Cass nods excitedly. "I know!"

Puck raises his hands. "We need to celebrate!" He turns to Cass. "When can you leave?"

You roll your eyes. "Puck."

Cass just laughs and shakes her head. "It's over soon. I can probably leave whenever. They're keeping everyone's stuff up overnight because there's a morning exhibit tomorrow where people can buy paintings that they like."

You furrow your eyebrows. "Do you have to be here for that?"

She nods. "Yeah, but I'm not selling mine. I like it too much." She smiles happily and shrugs.

"Awesome!" Puck says excitedly. "Cass, go get your boy and let's get out of here."

She nods and disappears to find Crater and you start to move toward the exit. Cass reappears with the kid a minute later and he waves.

"Hi!" He smiles down at Cass before looking back up. "Uh, thanks for inviting me along."

"Not a problem," Puck says. Then he turns to the boy with a stern look. "You seem like a good man, dude, but here's the deal. Fuck around with Cass and then there will be a problem. Understand?"

Crater nods nervously and Cass rolls her eyes before tangling their fingers together. You catch her eye, amused and she glares at you, daring you to say something. You decide to pass on that challenge. Brittany takes your hand and leads you down the sidewalk.

You think you're a funny little group, Puck and Quinn in the lead, laughing at something stupid, you and Brittany following along happily as Brittany skips slightly, Cass and Crater bringing up the rear, whispering cute things to each other a little too loudly.

You think about what you're going to do later and feel a twinge of nervousness in your stomach. But then Brittany squeezes your hand tightly before letting go and spinning around to twirl Cass right there on the sidewalk and you feel happy again, and at that moment, that's all that really matters.

* * *

><p>"Santana."<p>

Fingers stroke through your hair and you nestle further into the softness below you.

"Santana, sweetheart, wake up. It's late, we should go home."

Your eyes flicker open and you blink against the bright light of the room. "Huh?"

"Hi." A soft smile and gentle blue eyes come into focus.

You wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth. Then you realize you drooled on Brittany's leg and you wipe that off too. "What time is it," you croak out.

"Almost midnight." Brittany chuckles. "You slept for like two hours."

You jolt into a sitting position. "Shit." A glance around the room tells you that you're still at Puck's place. He's at the bar laughing at Quinn as she tries to mix something from the countless bottles he keeps there. Cass and Crater are sitting on the couch next to the one you're sitting on, eyes focused on the TV and hands strumming plastic guitars. You had laid down with your head on Brittany's lap to watch them play Guitar Hero on Puck's Xbox, but you must've fallen asleep.

"Do you want to go home?" Brittany asks.

"I… yeah, okay." You push yourself off the couch. "Just let me go to the bathroom first."

Brittany nods and you walk down the hallway to the bathroom, ignoring Puck's "wow, it lives!" and closing the door gently behind you. You look into the mirror and sigh. Your makeup is smudged around your eyes and your hair is slightly mussed.

You take a deep breath and grip the edge of the sink tightly. You know you had plans for tonight, but is it too late to propose? You hadn't planned on staying out. Brittany might just want to go to bed when you get home. You bite your lip and consider what to do.

On one hand, this wasn't your plan. You like plans. You need plans. How else would you get through anything without completely freaking out?

On the other hand, it's not like it matters what time it is when you propose to someone, right? That's not the thing that counts. You could still do it, your plan just got a little off course, but it doesn't matter that much.

Plus, it's not even _that_ late.

But crap. You were going to like, sit her down and do it over dessert. It is kind of late for dessert…

Fuck it. You can do it, you know, some other time…

There's a knock on the door and you open your mouth to tell whoever it is to hold on, but the door opens and Cass sneaks through the crack before closing it again.

"Cass, I could've been peeing or something."

She leans into the mirror, a finger delicately running under her eye to fix her makeup. "Whatever, Tía, you've been in here for like, five minutes. It doesn't take you that long to pee."

You roll your eyes. "I'm busy."

"The door was unlocked." She gives you that oh so familiar calculating look. "Look," she sighs. "I came in here to ask you something anyway." She turns around and leans back on the sink, her arm brushing yours in the tight space of the bathroom. "Can I stay at John's tonight?"

You narrow your eyes at her and before you can say something on the subject, she continues. "I just… I thought it would be cool, because then you could have your privacy to, you know," she lowers her voice to a whisper, "propose and stuff."

You quirk an eyebrow. "So you thought you could use that as an excuse to stay at his place."

She shrugs. "Yes. And no. I mean, he invited me. I thought it would be a good opportunity since you're doing your thing." She smiles innocently and shrugs, but you're kind of not buying it.

"I don't know, Cass. You expect me to just let you spend the night at your boyfriend's?"

Cass sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "He's not my boyfriend." You lift an eyebrow at her. "Okay, whatever, he kind of is, but it's not official or anything."

"Uh huh."

"Okay, fine, I'll be honest with you." She turns to face you more directly. "His mom isn't home for the weekend so he asked me to come over. But the thing is, it's not like that, okay?"

"It's not like that," you say slowly.

"It's _not_." She glances down nervously. "I think he really likes me, you know? And I mean, I guess I really like him. So we're taking things slowly." Cass looks back up at you, embarrassed. "I promise nothing will happen."

You study her for a second, contemplating. She's trying to keep a straight face, but her eyes have a small pleading look to them and you almost smile. For as much as people tell you that you look alike, you definitely don't remember ever sporting a look like that. You realize if you say yes then you definitely have to propose tonight. No chickening out.

"Fine," you sigh. "But no funny business."

Cass nods enthusiastically, letting a bright smile shine through. "Scout's honor," she says and holds up three fingers.

You roll your eyes, but chuckle a little. "Right." You lean back in toward the mirror and fix your makeup and smooth out your hair.

Cass leans against your arm. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes." You find her deep brown eyes in the mirror, so similar to yours, and she smiles.

"I think it's okay to be nervous. That means you care." She tilts her head to the side. "And also that you're not a cocky douche bag." She nudges her hip against yours.

"I guess that's a good thing. If I was more of a cocky douche bag, I'd be Puck." You grin at her and she mock shivers.

"I'm glad Brittany will officially be part of our family. I like her."

"Me too."

Cass keeps smiling at you softly, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "She's good for you."

You snort in amusement. "Are you qualified to make that statement?" You shove her playfully. "I met her before I met you."

"Hey!" She holds her hands up defensively, but laughs. "You barely did. _And_ you definitely got nicer since she started living with us. I'm not blind." She shoots you a look. "Or stupid."

"I know, I know." You smile at her again and pull her into a tight hug. "Thank you," you say into her hair and she squeezes you back.

"For what?"

"I don't know," you say. "Just thanks."

"You're welcome. I guess." She pulls away from you and cocks her head to the side. "Well, we should get back out there."

You nod and she goes to the open the door, but stops with her hand on the knob before turning to look back at you. "She's going to say yes, but you know, good luck."

You laugh. "Cass. Be careful tonight, okay. If things get, you know… just use protection and be safe." She scrunches her nose, but nods. "And," you say, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Tía." She smiles hugely and grabs your hand, pulling you out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Puck, Quinn, and Brittany are all gathered around the bar when you get back out there. Crater slips off the couch and joins you when he sees Cass. Brittany wraps her arm around you as you glide up next to her.

"Ready to go?" She smiles and you nod.

You say goodbye to everyone and head outside. Cass and Crater follow you, but turn the opposite way you're headed and Brittany shoots you a questioning look.

"Cass is staying at his place tonight."

Brittany laces your fingers together and raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. I think she's old enough to be responsible." You shrug and she smiles at you.

Brittany spins around and looks at the couple's retreating form down the street. "Goodnight Cass!"

"Night Britt! Have a good time tonight!" Cass yells back and Brittany laughs.

"Oh, I will." She tugs at your hand and you bite back a smile.

When you get back to your apartment, your heart is hammering in your chest. It's beating so hard in an attempt to break free of its cage and you wonder if it thinks fight or flight is best right now.

"San? What's wrong?" Brittany looks at you curiously as she hangs her jacket up. "You're kind of pale."

You clear your throat. "Nothing, I'm fine. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Water?" What? Why did you just ask that? She knows where the water is, she isn't a guest here.

"No… I'm good." She cups your cheek softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You look around, nerves battering around inside your stomach. "Can we just… sit down or something?" You lead her over to the couch and sit her down on it.

"Santana," Brittany chuckles, but she doesn't really sound amused. "Calm down, babe."

You wipe your hands on your thighs in attempt to get rid of the clamminess. Brittany smiles up at you, expression a mixture of curiosity and that one look she gets where her eyebrows scrunch together because she thinks you're being cute. Her eyes shine a bright blue and her cheeks are slightly flushed from the cool breeze that accompanied your walk outside. She is unbelievably beautiful and perfect and you want to make her yours forever.

"Brittany," you say quietly and take a deep breath.

"Santana..."

You offer her a half smile before reaching into your purse and pulling out the ring. You flip the box open and marvel at the way the diamond catches the light. Getting down on one knee, you look up at her and can't help the giant smile that takes over your face. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in astonishment.

"Brittany Pierce. Ever since we officially had a conversation, way back when on Rachel's stage, you've had a hold on me that I can't explain. You make me do things that I never thought I would ever do. I never thought I'd be that person who settles down, who meets her girlfriend's parents… who gets married." You pause and watch as her eyes meet yours for a second before returning to staring at the ring in your hands. "But you make me want all these things. You are beautiful and funny, smart and so, so kind. You love me for me, and you love Cass, and I never thought I would care if you liked anyone from my family, but now that it's happening, it makes me so happy. _You_ make me so happy. I love you, B. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you." You take another breath. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… will you marry-"

"No!" Brittany shoots off the couch and you lean back, shocked at the outburst.

"Wait, what?" You didn't think it was possible, but your heart is beating even faster now. No? The word sounds weird in your head. No. No. No? You gulp air into your lungs before you pass out.

"Santana, stay there!" Brittany pushes past you and you stare at her back, hand falling to your side and the box dangling from your fingers, as she rushes into your bedroom.

Your mouth is open in shock, but you don't really have time to freak out more before Brittany returns and sits back down. Her hands fiddle with something and then all of a sudden something gleams right in your face.

"San, that's not fair!" You look up at Brittany's face, only to be met with a pout. "Santana Lopez, even though you _suck_ because you were trying to do this before me… I love you. You confuse me. You're unpredictable, and you're moody, and you curse like a sailor." Your jaw snaps shut and you look at the ring in Brittany's hand, confused. "You always drip toothpaste on the counter in the bathroom and leave your coat hanging over the back of the couch." She tilts your chin up to look at her and you can't believe this is happening. You think your brain might be broken.

"But," Brittany continues. "You are always happy to see me. You make the best pancakes. You are a beautiful crier, and your smile could power this city. You help Cass with her homework and it's so cute how much you love her. I love everything we have built our relationship out of, and I love every moment that we've shared. I want to make memories with you, and _I _want to spend the rest of _my_ life with _you_. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, Santana, will _you_ marry-"

"Hold up," you finally laugh out. "Are you serious?" Brittany just looks at you confused. "Britt! You totally stole my thunder!"

She smiles back at you and pushes your shoulder. "No, Santana, you stole my lines! This was my idea first."

"There's no way!" You shake your head adamantly. "I definitely was planning this before you."

"No."

"Yes."

"Santana."

"Brittany."

"Fine!" Brittany holds up her hands and laughs happily. "It doesn't matter." Her eyes twinkle and you feel your heart swell up like a balloon. "At the same time?" Her voice lilts and you think you might die from cuteness overload.

"Okay," you're positive you've never smiled more in your whole life, from both relief and happiness.

"Okay, one, two, three."

"Will you marry me?" The question leaves both your mouths and you smile and Brittany nods and holds out her finger while you hold out yours. You slip the ring on and you can't describe the feeling that takes over you in that moment. You're just so happy.

Brittany slides off the couch and pushes you down so she's straddling you. Her hair tickles your nose and you're both laughing uncontrollably. "Oh my God," Brittany giggles. She crushes her lips to yours and you squeeze her around the middle, holding her closer.

"Loser," you mouth against her lips and she just smiles and shakes her head.

"You're a loser." She laughs again. "I love you," she murmurs and you can't even kiss her because you're smiling so hard.

"I love you, too." Suddenly a thought occurs to you and your stomach shakes with laughter.

"What?" Brittany's still smiling that cute smile and you tuck her blonde hair behind her ear so it's not hanging in your face.

"Did you know about Cass and Quinn's bet?"

She shakes her head. "No, what bet?"

"They have a bet on who would propose to the other first."

Her eyes widen and she chuckles quietly. "What?"

"Quinn said that you would, but Cass thought I would." Your hands squeeze her hips playfully and she bites her lip in a smile.

"That's dumb."

"I know, right?"

Brittany laughs again before sucking your bottom lip into her mouth. You sigh happily, content to sit in this moment forever.

"Wait," Brittany says, pulling back. "So who won?"

"Who won the bet?"

"Yeah?"

You furrow your eyebrows together. "Well I think Cass, because I proposed first."

Brittany sits up a little farther. "What? No you didn't."

Your hands drop to her thighs. "Yes, I did." You shrug. "It's not my fault you ran away in the middle."

"San, we proposed at the same time."

"No way, B, I proposed first."

"At the same time!" She pouts at you again and you laugh before pulling her back and kissing her softly.

"Okay," you give in, because you always give in to her. "We proposed at the same time."

She smiles again and captures your lips in hers. "I love you, Santana."

"I love you too, Britt." You kiss her gently, reveling in the fact that you can kiss her forever now.

You've never had your feet on more solid ground and your head has never been as certain of something as wonderful as Brittany in your entire life. As your hands encircle her waist again and her hair falls back around your face, you know that no matter what life throws at you, or how lost you get, Brittany will always be there to bring you back.


	21. Epilogue

**A/N:** I have a few days before my life starts to get hectic so I thought I'd get this out ASAP.

Anyway, this is it readers. TBMB has finally wrapped up. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Thank you all so much for reading and extra love to those who reviewed. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Due to popular opinion, I will be writing a companion piece from Cass' POV. If you are interested, stick around and I'll just be tacking it on here right after the epilogue. I will probably post the first part shortly (tonight or tomorrow), but I might not post more than that for a few weeks, as I am also starting a new fic (look out for it, or Author Alert if you want), which I hope will be good. Also unfortunately, I will be insanely busy for the next three weeks with school and break (I will awesomely not have Wifi on my break, so I won't be able to post. So... hooray for that...).

Anyway... Thank you all so much, and I hope you all stick around!

With love,

wherehopelies

* * *

><p><em>June 2013<em>

"Alright, can I have everyone's attention?" There's a repeated clinking and the noise in the room drowns to a dull hush. You smile at Puck a few seats down from you and he winks, lifting up his glass of champagne.

He clears his throat once everyone looks at him. "Hi, everyone. I guess I'll start the toasts." He shoots you a small smirk and you pray he doesn't say anything embarrassing.

"So for those of you who don't know, I met Santana when she was just a teenager. New to the city, she walked into my bar, and I don't even know how we became friends, because I swear, given the chance, she'd punch me in the face before smiling at me. Of course, it was probably the fault of my wandering hands, but, you know how it goes." He shrugs a little and a small laugh runs through the room. You roll your eyes.

"Santana has never been someone who was overly eager to show how happy or unhappy she was. On a good day you can get Santana to smile, and on a bad day, well, you'll be lucky to survive with your self-esteem intact." Puck smiles a little to himself. "However, that all seemed to change when Brittany came into her life." He turns to you. "Santana, you changed when you met Brittany. We've known each other for a long time, and I have never seen you as happy as Brittany makes you."

You glance to your left and Brittany smiles at you. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight and she squeezes your hand under the table.

Puck continues. "Eight years, and I've never seen you smile the way you do when Brittany walks into the room." A sincere smile crosses his face and you can't help but beam back. Then he turns to Brittany. "I don't know how you do it, Britt, but you've tamed the beast." You shoot Puck an exasperated look, but everyone else seems to find it funny. "It's easy to see that Santana loves you, and whatever you do, keep doing it, because you're doing something right." He raises his glass higher in the air. "To my best friend Santana, and to Brittany, and to their new marriage. May the sex never get old! Cheers!"

Puck tips his glass back and you follow, embarrassment flooding your cheeks at his words. Some things never change. Brittany leans over to kiss you softly and there's a whooping from somewhere in the room.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about," she whispers against your lips and you giggle quietly.

You sit quietly as Quinn makes a speech, and then Mike and Brittany's dad. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you've never been happier. It is your wedding day after all. A short silence settles over the room and you think the toasts are over before the person directly to your right stands up.

"Umm. Hi. So, for those of you who don't know me, I'm Cass." Cass gives a little wave and you chuckle at her nervousness. "I'm not really one for public speaking, but I guess as the maid of honor, it's my turn right?" She lets out a nervous breath and you hear Brittany giggle in your ear.

"Right, well. I guess I'll just start then." Her cheeks turn a shade darker and she clears her throat. "Just under two years ago, my family went through a hard time and I had to come to New York to live with Santana. Things weren't the greatest at the time, and I certainly didn't make things easy for her." She shrugs cutely. "But Santana showed me what it's like to have family who cares. She showed me what it means to care about somebody." She gives you a small smile and you nod in encouragement.

"Everyone is always telling us that we're alike, and that if I was ten years older I could be her twin. It's a compliment that I've learned to not take for granted. But if there's one thing I want to have in common, it's the hope that I have made as a big of an impact on her life as she has on mine."

You've never been a sap, but you think you might start crying. It feels like your heart might burst out of your chest from feeling so loved. Cass has changed your life so much and she doesn't even know. You sniffle a little and Brittany squeezes your hand again.

"Shortly after meeting Santana, I met Brittany. The funny thing is, I didn't even realize it. It was a huge surprise to come home and find my aunt was dating my PE teacher. And admittedly, it wasn't a surprise I really enjoyed much, either." Cass laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Of course, I warmed up to Brittany eventually, just like everyone seems to. It's hard not to like Brittany, even if she is making you get all sweaty in gym."

She pauses and turns to Brittany, who smiles back warmly. "Brittany is unbelievably kind and always willing to give a helping hand. God knows, she's given me one plenty of times. It was impossible to not love her. Even so, it was different between Santana and Brittany. It was so obvious they loved each other so early on in their relationship, and I just think that they were the only ones who didn't see it. Now their affection toward each other is so sweet it makes me want to go to the dentist because it gives me toothaches." She rolls her eyes and everyone laughs.

"But I think the thing that people don't realize is just how much they love each other. It's obvious that they do, but people don't see the behind the scenes stuff. Like one time, Brittany was trying to cook Santana dinner, but she accidentally started a fire. It wasn't really big or anything, but Santana was yelling and when she finally put the fire out, Brittany looked so embarrassed and upset that I didn't know whether I should comfort her or try to calm Santana down. After a second though, Santana kind of deflated and started crying. And that's saying something, because I have never seen her cry. And I was so confused because one minute she was yelling in anger and the next she was sobbing hysterically and I had no idea what to do. And there she was, bawling her eyes out and Brittany just wrapped her up in a hug and told her that she was okay and everything was fine. And I think that's what people don't realize. That Brittany makes Santana so mad but only because Santana cares so much about Brittany. And Brittany understands Santana on a level that most people don't even know _themselves_ on."

Cass looks at the both of you and smiles and you squeeze Brittany's hand to keep from crying. "So I guess in the end, what I'm trying to say is this: Tía, Brittany is an amazing person, but more than that, she brings out the amazing person in you. And Brittany, Santana loves you with such a big heart, and I know you will never take that for granted. I love both you guys, and Britt, welcome to the family."

Cass lifts her drink in the air before gulping down a sip and quickly sitting down, cheeks flushed. You wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into your chest. "Thank you," you whisper and she laughs, relieved.

Puck stands up again and announces the first dance and Brittany drags you onto the dance floor. Her white dress flows around her long legs as she wraps you up in her arms. It makes you feel small, but in a good way, like she'll always be there to keep you safe.

"Hi," she says when the music starts.

"Hey," you giggle happily.

"Did I tell you that you look gorgeous tonight?"

You look down at your simple black dress and smile. "Once or twice."

"Mmm." She spins you around and everyone cheers and you thank God for the millionth time that you fell in love with a dancer. You look deeply into her blue eyes as the song continues, not needing any words to convey the love you have for her. She smiles at you adoringly and your stomach flutters at the thought of seeing that smile every day for the rest of your life.

The song ends and Mike cuts in to dance with Brittany. You smile graciously at him and feel a tap on your shoulder. Spinning around you're met with Cass and the goofy smile she's been sporting more and more the past year. She holds out her hand to you and you laugh.

"May I have this dance?"

"Yeah, I guess, if I have to." She rolls her eyes at you before taking your hands in hers lightly.

"I liked your speech," you tell her and she blushes darkly.

"I rambled. It was so embarrassing."

You shrug. "I thought it was good." You spin her playfully and her black dress, similar to yours, whips around her knees.

"Yeah, well." She shrugs nonchalantly after she stops spinning. She looks at you seriously. "I meant what I said."

"I know you did." You tilt your head to the side and watch as her eyes slide away from you. "You changed my life, you know." Her eyebrows furrow and she lets out a disbelieving laugh. "I'm serious," you say. Then you look at her for a moment before lowering your voice to a soft hush. "I'm going to miss you this fall."

She chokes out a small gasping breath. "Yeah, me too." She clears her throat and you smile at her attempt to hide how emotional she is about it. "I'll just be in Brooklyn. It's not even that far."

"I'm so proud of you." She had looked at a few schools early into senior year, but fell in love with the modern campus of Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. After a long and anxious admissions process, she had gotten her acceptance letter and would be leaving you in August to study Fine Arts with a minor in Photography thanks to Quinn's influence.

She just smiles at you and shakes her head and the song comes to an end. You pull her into a tight hug.

"I love you, Tía," she murmurs into your chest and your eyes get a little misty.

"I love you, too, Cass."

She pulls away and smiles softly at you. "Congratulations."

You dance with what seems like everybody in attendance, from Puck to Quinn to Kurt and Blaine. Mike and Rachel. Finn and Crater (now that him and Cass have been dating for a while, you don't know whether to call him Crater or John). Even Brittany's dad, who, although slightly uptight, seems to have taken a liking to you now that you've met him a few more times. It seems like the whole night has passed when you finally return to Brittany's arms.

"Hi," she says.

"Hey again." You laugh and press yourself close to her, reveling in the calm of the moment.

"You've been dancing a lot."

"Yeah and my feet are killing me."

She smiles down at you, love and adoration shining through her eyes. "This night is perfect. Thank you, Santana." You stand up on your tiptoes, only slightly dismayed Brittany wore heels as big as yours tonight, and press your lips together.

"I think tonight is just the beginning," you smile at her and she nods, bringing your lips back together. The warmth that floods you is stronger than ever.

"I love you," she whispers against your lips like it's the most sacred thing she's ever said.

"I love you, too, B." You lean your head against her chest and let her pull you impossibly close and You take the moment to think about how much you've experienced and learned since meeting her.

You've learned that life is complicated. We go through ups and downs, good times and bad times. We experience hardships and times of uncertainty. More often than not, we are lost and confused.

We often think we are happy until something wonderful comes along and shows us how unhappy we actually are.

Brittany has shown you that it's okay to feel lost and it's okay to be unsure about things. Your life doesn't have to be defined by the things you do or your career. Your life is defined by the impact you have on someone and how you allow yourself to be happy and to just _live_.

It's easy to do that with the people in your life. You have a lot of things going for you, including people that you care about and who care about you.

You like your job. You have friends in Kurt and Rachel and in Puck and Quinn (although their recent engagement has you rolling your eyes at the cuteness). Brittany makes you happy. You love her and she loves you.

And in the end, you think that's all that really matters.


	22. It Was Your Fault

**They Found Me: A companion piece to They Bring Me Back from Cass' POV**

* * *

><p>Pencils.<p>

They fit between my fingers like a sock fits a foot. But never for writing. Put a piece of paper in front of me and it will soon be bursting with life. Not from words, but doodles or a sketch.

I am neither a writer nor a public speaker. I am many things, but not those. I guess that's why I have to do this. Of all the things I am, one is your maid of honor. And I_ am_ honored, but I didn't think I'd have to make a toast or give a speech. Fuck this.

I have no idea where to start, so Quinn told me to start at the beginning. It's hard to know where the beginning is though, because it all started so long before I met you. Maybe it started when Dad got arrested, or when I got knocked up. Or maybe somewhere between when I was lost and when Mom died. I don't know.

But I guess I can start with the first time I saw you.

* * *

><p>Do you remember when we met, Tía? Because I do.<p>

I was pissed. It wasn't your fault, but I wanted it to be.

I was pissed at Dad for being his fucked up self. I was even more pissed that he was arrested. It's not about what you do; it's about not getting caught. I had learned that by then. I think I had learned too much by then. Or maybe I hadn't learned enough.

It fucking sucked. It's one thing to lose one parent to cancer at twelve years old. These things happen to some people, even if it sucks. But for my stupid fucking dad to drive again, drunk and after shooting up, well fuck. He chose to do that. He chose to throw away the small scraps of normal family life that I had been desperately clinging on to. So because of him, I was woken up in the middle of the night by some fat ass police officer and told to grab my stuff. I was taken to a police station and told about the arrest, about how they were making some calls to my family members, but I could only think 'what family members?' Because I was sure I had none. Not after Abuela threw me out. There were people like cousin Marisol I guess, but fuck, she can barely pay for her six kids, there was no way she could take me too.

Then they told me I was going to New York. Did I know my aunt, Santana Lopez, they asked. I didn't. But I nodded my head yes. I had heard about you. Once. Abuela spat your name from her mouth like it was garbage, something that was making her physically sick. "A sinner," she said. "You're all sinners."

"Who is Santana," I asked.

"You'll meet her in hell."

Stupid. Abuela had always been ignorant to me. Hell and heaven. Those didn't exist. I was supposed to believe that God was some dick in the sky that could choose if I went to some pit of fire under my feet. If that was the case, why did God choose to give my mom cancer? Why did he make Abuela so narrow minded and Dad so malleable in the warm hands of alcohol. We are all God's children, but God is not my father. Although, the vast amount of stupidity in the world would be justified if alcohol had caused God's unwanted pregnancies just like mine.

New York was cold. Different than the cold of Ohio. Winter in Ohio seeps into your bones and takes root, wrapping it crisp fingers around your muscles and holding tight. New York cold creeps up on you. It nips at your nose and ears and before you know it, it's pounced on your whole body, dragging you down until you can't walk properly because you're shivering too hard.

It was weird to sit in that police station and wait for you, blind and not knowing what to expect. All I knew about you was that you were like me: a sinner.

I was angry and frustrated. I had been waiting there too long. I was bitter at the way my life had gone to shit. It wasn't your fault. I just wanted it to be.

Then I saw you. The door opened and the cold led you inside. I knew it was you. You looked like Mom. My first thought was that you were gorgeous. Even with flushed cheeks and tired eyes. Eyes that looked empty and dark. My second thought was that you looked like a bitch. You have those moments that make me think back to my first impression of you, because the bitch in you has bubbled up. But I have learned that it's like a volcano. It will explode, spewing and powerful, but for the most part, it lays dormant and asleep.

I think you were shocked to see me. You stared at me with wide eyes. I was suspicious of you. You were too young to be my aunt. You looked barely older than me in your large hoodie and tight fitting jeans, hair falling perfectly around your face.

I think you wanted to say something, but then an officer came and pulled you into his office and I was left waiting. Again. I was always waiting. Waiting for Mom to go into remission, for Dad to kick his habits. I was always waiting.

You came back out eventually. You seemed unsure and I knew you didn't want me. You just felt bad for me and didn't want me to live in a foster home or some shit until I turned eighteen. You didn't want me, but that was fine. I didn't want you.

I have to admit, your attempt at small talk was cute, Tía. But I know they already told you how old I was. And I wasn't going to just spill my fucking life story to you. So I made a deal with myself. You tell me, and then later, maybe I'd tell you.

When I asked what your job was, I was expecting something like lawyer, maybe a model. And if you weren't something like that, but something boring, then I was expecting like, teacher or accountant. I wasn't expecting bartender, that's for sure. You were too feminine to be a bartender. Bartenders in Ohio were creeps. I don't know how many times I'd had fat perverted bartenders screaming at me when I had to physically drag my dad away. You definitely weren't like them.

I decided I was on a mission. New York was just another chain holding me back, another thing that didn't go right for me. I would do my time there, and then I'd be able to start over, a brand new life, however I wanted. I would leave there with no ties, and that included you.

I guess that was stupid. I'm sorry for that now. How I acted the first night. Quiet and bitchy. It still wasn't your fault. I just wanted it to be.

You have to admit that whole grocery store ordeal was hilarious though. I know I almost got you to buy me that expensive vegan crap. Rachel would've been proud of me.

You really got to me that night. Just asking questions about my life and friends and boyfriends. It pissed me off. You were acting like you cared and I knew you didn't. You do now, but I know you didn't then. I was so angry, and attacking you felt good. You were just like me with your one night stands and drinking and mistakes. I could see it in your eyes. They are my eyes. The ones that haunted me in my dreams. We were pathetic. Me especially.

I was so eager to tear you down, but I had been tearing myself down. I screamed at you, pointing out that you had no family. Who I was to say that? I had no family either.

We were so alike. Lost, confused. Sinners.

I don't know why I've written this. It's not like I'm going to say this shit in your toast. I don't know what to say in that. Quinn made me write it out, but I don't think she meant like this. This isn't happy. But I am happy. I'm happy with you, Tía. You have taught me that I am not broken and alone. You have taught me that second chances are possible. I'm a different person from the girl you saw sitting in a hard plastic chair at a police station, angry and bitter.

I didn't want that to be your fault. But I am so glad it is.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** You guys interested in more? Tell me your thoughts and if I should keep going. Thanks and love you guys.


	23. Worth the Wait

Day two made me learn something else about you, Tía. You are nothing if not enthusiastic. Not enthusiastic in the 'overeager Rachel Berry' way, because, seriously, gross. We can all only handle so much Rachel.

No, you're enthusiastic in the 'mind on a mission' way. Once you want something, you'll get it. And it seemed you had made up your mind that we were going to get along. Even if you had to bribe me.

Did I ever tell you that your pancakes are the shit?

Not going to lie, those things totally won me over. I hadn't had pancakes made at home in the longest time. I couldn't cook before I lived with you and there was no fucking way my dad was wasting time making me breakfast.

So. I blame the pancakes. You think it's your awesomeness that got me to be civil enough to traipse around Manhattan like a tourist, but it was definitely the pancakes.

If anyone had told me two weeks before Dad was arrested that I'd one day enjoy a stroll in the park with my aunt in New York, I'd tell them to fuck off, I don't have an aunt in New York.

But there I was, walking by this giant lake, people watching and talking about the Beatles. Walking with you was easy. It was kind of awkward, but I didn't have this unbearable need to make the awkwardness go away. Like a mild sunburn. It kind of hurts, but not enough that you're in pain, only enough to make you satisfied that you're going to tan. Walking with you felt like that.

Day one was the first time I had noticed that we had a lot in common. But day two was the first time somebody else mentioned it.

God knows it wasn't the last.

You took me to the Chrysler Building. It shot straight up like a needle threading its way through the blanket of the night the sky. I think you took me there so you wouldn't have to pay. Apparently you have connections.

That guy with the big mouth helped us sneak up to the top. He laughed when I asked him what was up with his lips. But seriously Tía, I thought he'd been stung by bees and they were swollen or something. I guess they're just like that. It would've been funny, but then he said I was just like you.

It felt like all the air rushed out of my chest. Like when someone pushes you in the pool and your belly smacks against the water and not only are you under water, but the impact from hitting the water has you gasping for air.

He didn't know me. He couldn't know that I was like you. Alone. Lost. A sinner.

You just laughed, seemingly unaware that I was freaking out. We got to the sky deck and you pushed me forward, pointing out the Empire State Building. It stuck out, even in the darkness. It wasn't that special, but something about being so high in the air and having a quiet moment in the chaos of the city was amazing. I just stood there and looked at all the little lights crawling by on the ground.

After a few minutes, I realized you were gone and I freaked out for a second. Would you leave me up here? Abandon me on a building in a city I knew nothing about? I skittered around the deck until I saw you leaning against the protective barrier and I let out a sigh of relief.

It threw me off how relieved I was to see you. That wasn't part of my plan. I was supposed to remain cool and collected, but all of a sudden I wanted to grab onto your hand and force you not to leave me.

The feeling stuck throughout the night and when we returned to your apartment I desperately wanted to tell you that being in this huge city freaked me out. I wanted to tell you that I kind of liked you and I wanted to tell you thanks for not just leaving me to foster care. But people don't just say stuff like that and I definitely don't just say shit like that to people I just met. So I didn't say anything.

It took me a long time to fall asleep that night. I kept tossing and turning, an uneasy feeling creeping through my window with the sounds of the city. It was a feeling that I would cuddle up in bed with more often the longer I stayed with you.

It took me a long time to realize that feeling was safety. It was certainty.

It was happiness.

* * *

><p>Back in Ohio, I had a teacher tell me that the people you surround yourself with are a reflection of your character. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I do know that you, Tía, are nothing like Kurt and Rachel.<p>

Meeting them was the first insight I got into your life and I definitely wasn't prepared.

They were energetic and animated and you were cavalier and indifferent. Kurt was fashionable and Rachel was passionate about performing. We went to Rachel's theater so Kurt could fix one of her costumes. They took me backstage and you left me alone with them. Kurt sat down and took a needle through Rachel's costume and I looked at the backdrops for scenery.

I had never seen art like that. I had seen paintings and photographs, drawings and sculptures, ceramics and jewelry. But I had never seen art made plainly for a purpose. Art instills feelings in people; people relate to artistic expression. And to see art on such a large scale used to enhance a performance that was already in itself supposed to be an expression… that was kind of invigorating.

It certainly caught my attention.

And I guess I had caught Kurt's.

"What are you looking at," he said.

"The backdrops. They're awesome."

He tilted his head to the side and tapped his chin with a finger. "They are, aren't they?" I could only nod.

Rachel appeared next to Kurt and looked at the backdrop to the left. "That one is my favorite. It's for the first scene." She smiled fondly. "The painters were so erratic."

Kurt chuckled. "Aren't they all? Remember that painter Santana dated in college?"

Rachel contemplated it. "The blonde?"

"Yes. She was so out there. I could never understand her. And remember she gave Santana that painting of those pretty flowers?"

Rachel laughed. "Oh my God! Yes. And Santana had that panic attack and broke up with her before chucking the painting in the sewer."

It seemed they had forgotten about me. I furrowed my eyebrows, the words 'her' and 'she' echoing in my ears. And then it made sense.

"_You're all sinners."_

I could feel the connections swirling in my head like paint down the sink. The reds and blues fusing together to make a purple. You were kicked out for being _gay_. Abuela never talked about you, Mom never mentioned you.

This is the reason I didn't know you?

This unknown resentment for our family, what I had known as family, rushed through me, blurring what I had previously thought like water colors with too much water. The color was bleeding and leaving me unsatisfied with its dull drips.

And then you glided up, smiling and bouncing on the balls of your feet and I couldn't understand why Kurt and Rachel were giving you confused looks and how you could be so happy when, just like me, our pathetic excuse for family threw you out like pastels rubbed down to the nub, color used raw and furthermore useless.

Is that how they thought of us? One thing about us, and we are dull and useless, our colors gone? One thing about us and everything changed?

I like to believe we are more than our biggest mistake, more than one part of who we are, more than one aspect of our life.

But to them we are not.

To them we are wrong.

But what about you? You couldn't help this part of you. This is who you are. And that is so different from me. I made a mistake. And you were just… you.

Would my mistake dull your perception of me, casting a shadow over the person you barely knew me to be?

I didn't know. I should have known you wouldn't see me differently. You are so firm in your beliefs. So accepting on the inside (although you pretend not to be). You are understanding of our family and how it feels to be unwanted. To you, my mistake is another stepping stone that paved the way to how I am now. To you, I am nothing without my mistake. But my mistake also means nothing.

You have complicating feelings, Tía.

You should have seen your face when I brought up that you liked girls. I thought you might have a heart attack, the way your eyes popped out and your lips twisted like you were in pain. You opened your mouth, a tiny intake of air, and I told you I didn't care. I have so much respect for you, Tía. You are headstrong and stubborn, and I admire that you had the resolve to be yourself, even when being yourself was the worst thing you could be in our family.

That night was the first time I realized that you were more than what you appeared. You were a painting made of fast and sure brushstrokes, littered with long and careful ones. Full of color, dotted with shadows. Utterly simple, but bursting with so much feeling.

I watched you get ready for work, and I couldn't help but want to know more about you. Feel the brush in my hand, carve out your deepest shadows. I couldn't wait to get my hands dirty, splattered with paint and sticky from sweat.

But you were a painting that needed handling with care. One that would take time and patience. We are so alike. I knew I would have to wait for you to unfold and show me your colors

It was definitely worth the wait.


	24. Wind at My Back

When I was ten, we moved. It wasn't a far move, just from one side of the city to the other, but I had to switch schools. It wasn't too bad. Fifth grade isn't exactly that big of a deal, even if it seemed like it was at the time. I was excited, and embarrassed to be holding Mom's hand, eager to meet new friends and wanting to seem grown up.

Walking into my new school in New York was much harder. Mom wasn't there to hold my hand and I guess I hadn't realized how much I wanted that until it wasn't an option. My only option was you and you seemed just as nervous as I was. I don't know what you had to be nervous about. All I knew is that I didn't want to be there, in James Madison High School, sitting in the principal's office and listening to the guy read me some bullshit dress code guidelines.

I'd much rather have been at your place watching TV or something. It wasn't exactly routine yet, but at the time, it was all I knew when it came to you and New York.

I was so determined to not need you, Tía. I am Cassandra Velasquez, I told myself. I don't need you and I don't need my mom and I can handle a bunch of mouth breathers and idiotic teachers.

It was a good theory. Until I was sitting in the back of Astronomy, minding my own business, drawing a mediocre representation of a rocket ship in my notebook, and the teacher found it necessary to assign some goddamn group project.

Group projects mean people. Group projects mean people working together.

God I fucking hate group projects.

"Wanna work together?"

His name was Greg Morrison and he was dreamy, I guess. With his untidy mop of black hair and his pretty hazel eyes. I can't even remember what the project was about anymore. He kept hitting on me, and I always had a weakness for a charming smile and a cool leather jacket. What can I say, a girl likes her leather.

(_Yes_, I said leather, Tía. Don't tell me you don't know what I mean.)

He walked me to gym because apparently it wasn't on the first floor, but the second, and his class was on the third. My old school in Ohio only had one floor.

I know I've said it before, but just so it's on the record: I hate gym.

The first day at James Madison, I got to sit out because I didn't have gym clothes. The second day I wasn't so lucky.

"Alright, everybody, four laps around and then we'll play some basketball, okay?"

_Her_ name was Ms. Pierce and I didn't like her. Not one bit.

"You! New girl!" God dear Jesus, so help me.

"What," I snapped at her.

The teacher jogged up to me, her blonde ponytail swishing through the air. "You've got to run the laps. No walking."

Tía, if you could only see the look I gave Brittany just then. You would be appalled that I had the audacity to glare at your future girlfriend like that. Although, I doubt you'd be surprised that I glared at a _teacher_ like that.

"I don't run," I said, and turned to continue walking. She annoyingly fell into step beside me.

"Your gym grade is all participation. If you don't participate, I can't give you a good grade."

"Walking is participating."

"You're supposed to be running." Her point was kind of proven by all the other kids running around us, passing me left and right. "Plus," she shot me a grin. "Running is really healthy for you and it's super fun."

"Running is not fun."

"Sure it is. Your heart starts beating super fast and then your body releases these cool chemicals that make you happy. You'd totally be happier if you ran. It's like, science."

"I'm happy enough."

She tilted her head to the side, an action I'd soon become familiar with. "You don't look that happy."

I just kept walking. I didn't want to talk to her. She sighed kind of sadly and blew her whistle, letting everyone grab a basketball to start shooting hoops.

God I hate gym.

"She's not so bad." A scrawny blonde kid dribbled his ball up next to me at the hoop in the corner.

"Who isn't?"

"Ms. Pierce." He gave me a lopsided smile and pushed his glasses up his nose. "She's actually totally awesome." He shot the ball and it hit the rim and rebounded to my feet. I picked it up and handed it back to him. "I'm Crater, by the way."

"Crater?" What the fuck kind of name is that?

"Well, it's actually John, but everyone just calls me by my last name." He pushed his sweaty bangs out of his face and I couldn't believe I was talking to this loser.

"Right."

The kid continued to talk to me and invited me to eat lunch with him and I didn't care enough to say no. He was actually kind of cool, and he had this weird, quirky sense of humor that somehow managed to be funny. Like when you don't expect two colors to blend all that great, but they accidentally run over one another and you're pleasantly surprised that they actually work kind of nice together.

"Crater, quit creeping out the new chick." A pretty girl with brown hair pushed back into a ponytail sat down next to me at the lunch table and pulled a sandwich out of her backpack.

"I'm not doing anything, Mel, fuck off."

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand. I took it warily. "Melanie Jamison."

"Cass."

The two of them bantered back and forth and I couldn't tell if they were friends or not. They kind of reminded me of you and Quinn sometimes, now that I think about it.

Turns out, Melanie was in my astronomy class, too.

"Who are you doing your group project with?"

"Greg something," I told them.

"Greg Morrison?" I nodded because that sounded right. "Oh God."

John chuckled dryly across the table. "Well, that was fast."

"What was fast?" I watched as they shared a look and it made me uncomfortable. I wished I was eating lunch with you and Kurt and Rachel.

"He's gotten with almost every girl in the school."

"Nice Crater, really subtle." Mel rolled her eyes and ripped a piece of crust off of her sandwich. She popped it in her mouth and opened a can of Sprite with a crack. Bubbles fizzled and hissed against the aluminum, like those fireworks that spin around on the ground.

"What, I'm just saying. She's too good for him."

I looked at the kid across the table, raising my eyebrows at his flushed cheeks and the flustered way he pushed his glasses up his nose. He didn't know me. He didn't know anything about who I was or what I had done in the past. And I didn't know much about my Astronomy partner, but I was pretty sure that I wasn't too good for him. I didn't think I was too good for anyone. If anything, everyone else was too good for me.

It didn't matter, I thought, as I watched these two random kids who I hadn't even meant to eat lunch with. I wasn't here for friends. I wasn't here because I wanted to be. I would focus on school and maybe getting along with you. I was here to pass the time, not to be happy.

And as I watched nerd-boy scowl, I knew that if there was one thing I wasn't here for, it was boys.

* * *

><p>One thing I miss about Ohio is the wind. Sure, New York has wind, but it's different. In New York, the wind gets sucked in the tunnels between sky scrapers and whips your hair into your eyes so you're walking even faster than normal to get to wherever you're going because the wind is just pissing you off.<p>

In Ohio, the wind is open and free. It scatters dust and sunshine into your bones and refreshes you. It whirls around you, like heavy traffic on the freeway, whooshing by and pushing you and pulling you and making you feel like you can fly.

Leaves flutter and tickle in the breeze, crackling with laughter as they bounce on the ground from one spot to the next. You could just stand in the street, letting the wind twirl around you, arms spread like a bird perched to take flight, the air tugging at the corners of your lips and just enjoy being alive.

I could see it all in my head, feel the breeze tickling my nose and the laughter bubbling up in my pores.

But then it all fell away, leaving me to be passed by kids running in circles and sweat dripping down my forehead.

"Cass, you're supposed to _run_ the laps. I don't want to see you walking!"

It was almost too easy to ignore the yelling, to keep on walking, when the wind wasn't pushing at your back, making you feel alive and free.

* * *

><p>"What's <em>he<em> doing here?"

I didn't know why I even kept sitting with John and Mel. Well, Mel was kind of cool, but sometimes I wanted to strangle John to shut him up. He had so much energy and he was so open to everything. I just wanted to clamp my hands on his shoulders and force him to settle down.

He just never had an opinion on anything. He took everything at face value and accepted everything for what it was. He was like a tree, sometimes bending and manipulated in the strongest of weather, but never once falling or cracking. At the end of the day, he'd shake out his leaves and stand tall, ready to take the next powerful gust of wind.

I think you would laugh at me, Tía, because I knew how to piss people off. I could piss you off so easily, when I wanted to. I did at the beginning. I try not to now.

But either way.

Sometimes I liked to push John's buttons. You know, just to get a rise out of him. Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me, because I like to make people mad.

It's something I only notice I'm doing until after I've done it. I secretly knew it'd piss John off, but I didn't really think it through until after.

But still, maybe bringing Greg Morrison to lunch wasn't the best idea. I probably should've seen that one coming.

"We're doing our Astronomy project."

You'd think after a few weeks, John would've realized that's the relation I had to this kid, but whatever.

"Couldn't you do it in the library or something?"

"Sorry, is there a problem?" Greg was always a nice guy, even if he had a reputation.

"No." John had scowled. I think I saw Mel put her hand on his leg under the table and he took a deep breath.

"Okay, well you're Crater right? Cass and I are doing our project on the moon. Maybe you could tell us a little about yourself, it'd fit right into the presentation." I think that was supposed to be a joke, but nobody really found it funny.

There might have been an awkward moment there, but then Mel's phone went off and her soft voice answered and I guess it kind of dispelled the tension, even as she got up and walked out of the cafeteria. Especially since John kind of shook his head and settled further into the bench to eat his lunch.

"Who's she talking to," I asked him.

He shrugged. "Probably her girlfriend. Taylor."

I could feel my mouth fall open in shock. Did you know, before I came to Ohio, Tía, I had never known a gay person in real life. Not one. I mean, there was that boy who dressed kind of gay and talked kind of gay from my Math class, but I never had a conversation with him or anything.

Then I move to New York, and all of a sudden I knew two gay people. I guess it doesn't seem like a lot, but it was weird.

"Mel is gay?"

"Bi."

"I _knew_ there was something weird about that girl." Greg laughed and spun his bottle of orange juice around in his hands. John stiffened across the table and I should've known then that things were headed south.

"There's nothing wrong with her." I could see John pulling his branches in, protecting himself from the gale that was about to come.

Greg held up his hands. "No, man, I never said there was! I just said something was weird, you know?"

"No. Actually I don't."

"Dude, don't be like that."

"I can be however the fuck I want. Whatever, fuck this." John stood up and looked at me. "You coming, Cass?"

I shook my head and pointed to the papers in front of me. "Project."

I felt uneasy, but I don't know why I said no. Mel was kind of my friend, and Greg had kind of been a dick, but the thought of going with John felt like that little shift in winter right before it's going to snow. That moment when you can feel the pencil in your hand leading darting across the paper with reckless abandonment and you aren't sure if the result is going to be something awesome or a disaster.

His face fell, but he rolled his eyes like he was mad and I think if he really was a tree a few of his leaves might've fallen off.

Or maybe it was my gust of wind that would have just blown them off.

* * *

><p>"Okay, here's the deal. If you run, I'll let you pick the activity today. It has to be gym related, but you can pick it."<p>

The thing was, I don't know why Ms. Pierce cared so much. Sure, I know now. That's just who Brittany is. But then, I didn't understand, and to be honest, it just made me want to scream.

The worst part was, I couldn't even hate her. I didn't _like_ her, definitely not. But I couldn't hate her. She just smiles that smile at you and no matter how badly I wanted to hate it, I couldn't be anything more than briefly annoyed.

"I don't want to pick anything. I don't care."

Truth is, I don't really understand why we had to do warm up laps anyway.

"You can pick anything. Soccer, dodgeball. Come on, you know you want to."

"No."

"Please." I swear to God that was the first time she pouted at me. "Giving you a bad grade will make me feel really guilty."

"I apologize that my attitude is eating away at your conscience."

I had to look away from those big blue eyes. One more second and I might have started running.

What, it's not my fault, Tía. Those eyes make you do everything and anything she wants, you whipped bitch.

Either way, I kept walking.

But for a second there, I swore I could feel the rustle of a quiet breeze on my back.

* * *

><p>You had been working late a lot, and if you weren't working, you were on a date with some girl you had slept with. I could tell when you went on dates because the next day you always made breakfast. You literally got up early and pranced around the kitchen, doing whatever it is that you do to make world's best pancakes.<p>

I don't really have a justification, or even an excuse, but maybe that girl I had desperately and adamantly left in Ohio had crept through my window or maybe I was just feeling insecure, but I did something I really hadn't wanted to do.

I could blame you and your busy nighttime schedule for making it so easy on me, but it wasn't your fault.

It was just, since that day at lunch, everything inside me felt like it was whirling and bubbling up. I felt guilty, like I had done something wrong. I was dirty and wrong and it was making me so frustrated because I couldn't draw anything without using too much shadowing or too thick of lines.

It was easy, really, to ask Greg to come over and work on our Astronomy project. I was just doing what I always did when I felt useless. I would let myself be used.

Afterwards, I looked up at the ceiling and caught my breath and my mind felt clearer. I hated that sex did that to me, that it made my mistakes more pronounced and crisp in the front of my brain. I guess that's fucked up, but you understand, don't you, Tía?

I think you do. We were the same. We still are the same. But different, too.

"My aunt is gay." I don't know why I said it into the silence. We were both just laying there, and I guess I knew why I felt so messed up. Greg hadn't insulted only my friend. He had insulted you and that pissed me off because even though it hadn't been directed toward me, it felt like I was being insulted too.

"Yeah, so," he panted out. Is it sad that we never even took out the stuff to work on our project?

"She's on a date." I felt like I was just spitting out all the random things that were swirling around in my brain. Colors mixing and pencils crawling over paper, but not really creating an image, just a myriad of lines and thoughts.

He didn't say anything so I looked over at him. "I think she might come home soon."

He nodded, taking the cue to leave, and put on his jeans. Then he looked back at me, running a hand through his dark hair. "We can finish the project at lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay."

He smiled and threw his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, buttoning it as he walked out of my bedroom. I put on my earphones and my clothes and crawled back under my covers.

My pillow puffed out a little when I put my head down on it. My knees bent under the covers and my hands slipped between my thighs and I took a deep breath to hold back the tears that wanted to leak down my cheeks, blue paint droplets staining my pillow canvas.

I hadn't cried since I left Ohio, and wasn't going to let myself cry then.

But I was pissed. Pissed that I let myself do that after I had promised myself I wouldn't. Pissed that I wasn't homesick, but that a little bit of home had followed me anyway. And not even a part of home I liked.

And it didn't matter that I was making friends. It didn't matter that my grades weren't so bad yet (except maybe PE). It didn't even matter that I had moved into the AP art class at school. Because I was still me and I was going to screw it up.

And I guess nothing really mattered, even as you liked my sketch, and even as you caught me for having Greg over.

I guess the only thing that mattered is that you were happy, with your new girlfriend, and strangely that made me happy, too.

I thought maybe I could do something to make it up to you for not saying anything at lunch that day. I thought maybe I could do something right. I could meet your new girlfriend. I could show you the support that you had been showing me.

I thought maybe, just maybe, I could do something without screwing it up.

Now, that I think back on it, I'm really proud that I didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hi readers. I'm glad to see so many of you enjoying this POV, it makes me really happy! Unfortunately, I didn't think I did this chapter as well as the last ones, but that might be because we are getting more interactions with other people instead of just Cass' view on Santana. This part was essential to Cass' POV, but I regret that there isn't more Santana in it, but that's okay. Look for more her and Brittany in the next chapter. Thanks for reading and have a good week.


	25. Fate

**A/N:** Oh my God! Over 400 reviews? You guys are amazing. Thanks and I love you.

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><p>Fate is the idea that circumstances and events are outside of our control, determined by some overlying, omnipotent, supernatural being. We usually relate it to our destiny and we often undermine the word when something coincidental happens to us. We say "oh it must be fate."<p>

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think fate is often seen as a good thing. Serendipity is fate, true love is fate, Charlie wins the golden ticket, congratulations, it's fate.

But what about when your dad gets arrested and you have to leave your home and everything you know to go live in New York with some family member you've never even heard about.

And what about when your gay aunt invites her new girlfriend over for dinner and you're worried said girlfriend won't like you, but – surprise! – said girlfriend is your gym teacher who _you_ really, really don't like.

Is that fate?

It would seem fate has never really been on my side.

I don't know what was worse, Tía, being scrutinized and scowled at by my dad's stupid ex-girlfriend, Melissa, or being smiled at and respected by your new girlfriend who I desperately wanted to hate but couldn't.

It was almost too much to handle.

"Can I be excused? I have, like homework, and stuff."

I could feel Brittany's eyes on me as I pushed back from the table and hurried down the hall, closing the door behind me and flopping on the bed.

That wasn't how things were supposed to be. My dad was supposed to care and you were supposed to be indifferent, but that's not how it was.

"_Cass, you're doing fine in school aren't you? Acquiring lots of useful knowledge?"_

I fucking hated Melissa. She thought she was so fucking superior because she was an executive of this weird consulting company. I hated her stupid expectant expressions and her condescending tone. But even more I hated how my dad just fueled all that shit.

"_She'd probably be learning more if she wasn't wasting all her time doodling in that notebook of hers."_

I had gotten used to it, I could ignore it. I could handle the passive aggressive comments because that's how things were.

But then you, Tía, ruined everything. You and Brittany.

"_So what do you like to do outside of school?"_

Brittany has always been annoyingly sincere.

"_Cass likes to draw."_

No no no no no. Not again. I could feel my heart beating faster, ready for the criticism, the brutal attack on the only thing that kept me from floating away and melting into my own thoughts.

"_She's amazing_. _She's in the AP art class and I saw this one drawing she did of the skyline and it was awesome."_

Pause, freeze, hold the fucking phone.

Sometimes in photography, this really interesting thing happens. When you're taking a picture, if the shutter stays open for too long, it lets too much light in and the photo can get bleached out. This almost always ruins your pictures, and it sucks.

But one time, I was fiddling with the expensive camera Quinn bought me for my eighteenth birthday, and I dropped it and the shutter clicked when it hit the ground. It didn't break the camera (thank God), but I thought that picture would probably be blurry, or maybe it would be a picture of the lint under the couch.

After I had developed that specific roll, I was going through the pictures and found one of you and Brittany. You were sitting on the couch and Brittany had her mouth open in this big smile and you were looking at her with this awestruck look, like she had just done something amazing. Except I'm pretty sure she had just been sitting there, but that's beside the point.

The picture turned out kind of crooked, probably from when I dropped the camera. But the cool thing about it was the corners were bleached out, an echo of white spilling around your head and reflecting off of Brittany's golden hair.

Sometimes living with you feels like that picture.

You're expecting to capture one thing, a normal every day moment, maybe a pretty good picture in general. But then you screw it up, and instead of the picture turning out worse than you thought it might be, it turns out better than any of the other pictures you've ever taken.

And that moment, when you were literally gushing about my art to Brittany, felt like that.

It wasn't supposed to be like that.

My dad was supposed to care about my art, and you were supposed to not care about me. That's what I expected of my life.

But I had it backwards.

My dad didn't give a shit about anything I did. Especially my art. And that pissed me off, but I learned to expect it, and as a result, I expected that of you.

And when you cared and seemed, I don't know, proud of me… that freaked me the fuck out.

I laid down on my bed, eyes clenched shut, fingers gripping the blanket, and I couldn't breathe. I had that spinning feeling again. The blue walls of my room whirled around and meshed with the white of the carpet and I started to panic.

I took deep breaths and opened my eyes and it felt like that moment when you touch down in a plane and your ears pop. A shriek from the kitchen pushed through my closed door and I gasped in a cold breath, like that whoosh when you first open a can of spray paint and it bursts onto the canvas.

I sat up, my hands shaking as they ran through my hair, and grabbed a piece of paper off of the pile I had stolen from the printer that you hide behind the TV.

The pencil steadied my hand as it darted across the paper, producing steady, but light-as-a-feather lines. I didn't think, I just drew. I yearned for a tan pencil, and then a brown, and then a blue-gray. And when I was done, I was surprised I had drawn your kitchen, because I hadn't really meant to draw anything at all.

Then I taped the picture to the back of my closet door.

While you might have been proud of my art, I don't think I was ready to be.

* * *

><p>I skipped third period the next day.<p>

I used to skip class in Ohio all the time, but I hadn't done it in New York yet. Mostly because I didn't really have anywhere to go.

But I'll be damned if I was going to face Ms. Pierce after I had caught her on top of you, your lips smashed together, giggling all cute and shit the night before. Especially on my birthday. Like seriously, fuck no.

So I sat in the stairwell on the opposite side of the school with my notebook and doodled random shit, just messing around. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding until I heard someone coming down the steps behind me.

"Cass?"

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, Brittany had moved past me until she was standing in front of me, eyes curious and a backpack thrown over one shoulder. I just stared at her, not really sure what to say, and she kept looking at me with that annoyingly adorable look of confusion on her face.

"You're skipping my class," she said, and it wasn't really a question, but more of a curious statement.

"I know you're fucking my aunt."

Sometimes I don't know why I say the things I say. I could easily convince myself that I just don't think before I say things, but the thing is, I totally know what's going on in my brain. I know what I'm saying. I know how it's going to sound when it comes out of my mouth, but I say it anyway. I guess it's kind of like smoking a cigarette. When you bring it to your lips and inhale, you know it's not healthy and you know it's probably not going to do you any favors in the future. But the heat of it on your throat and the airy feeling that filters into your brain is enough to keep you doing it over and over.

To be honest, I think Brittany is the only person who has never really been surprised by the shit I say.

She kind of just tilted her head to the side and the corners of her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile and instead of denying it she gracefully eased down onto the step beside me and nodded.

"I am." She looked at me, eyes uncertain and slightly nervous, and I realized she had the best eyes and if I had a decent set of pastels I could maybe do them justice. "Is that okay?"

"Is what okay?" I was a little in my head, imagining my fingers curled around a pencil, blending blue and a few flecks of gold and shading a dark pupil.

"That Santana and I are… intimate." She waved a hand in the air in an attempt to make her question clearer.

I raised my eyebrows, because it wasn't really my place to tell her whether she could get knuckle deep in you or not. "It's not really up to me to say whether that's okay or not."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I wondered how this conversation had happened. I had skipped gym to _avoid_ Brittany and it seemed my plan had kind of backfired because now we were alone and talking about her sex life. Like… what the fuck.

I told you fate was never on my side.

"Don't you have a class to teach?"

She laughed quietly and leaned back on her hands, long legs spilling down the stairs. "I have a sub today. I was helping Mrs. Tanner install the new projectors around the school. Mr. Ferguson was supposed to help her since he's the computer teacher, but he got sick today, so she asked me to help since I fixed the one in the conference room last year."

"Oh."

"So why are you skipping my class?" She had this weird twinkle in her eye like she knew why I was ditching, but just wanted me to say it.

"I was avoiding you." I shrugged because there was no point in lying.

She laughed, like children giggling in the park, money tinkling in a pocket, bells ringing in the distance. "Your plan kind of backfired."

"Yeah, kind of." I let out a breath because I could feel laughter bubbling in my chest and because the situation was so damn _bizarre_ and because Brittany's laughter was easy to get swept away in and I didn't want to be laughing right now.

"Well, I guess you can be off the hook. It_ is_ your birthday." She smiled slightly and unzipped the backpack she had set on the stairs next to her. "I got you something, by the way."

Brittany is very different from most people. I think that's why she works so well with you and me, Tía. We aren't really in to people, you know?

We're rainy days and other people are days when the sun beats down and it's too hot. Brittany is a rainy day when the sun's out at the same time. You get the best of both worlds and you didn't think you could enjoy sun and rain at the same time, but it's the best kind of weather. Don't you think?

"You got me something?" I didn't understand. How could she get me something for my birthday when I didn't even like her and this was our first real conversation without you or gym to act as a buffer? Even my dad had stopped getting me presents a few years ago.

"Yeah," she nodded happily. "Santana told me what she got you and I thought I could get you something, too. It's not much, but I didn't have very much time and I thought you might like them anyway."

She handed me some plastic packaging and I flipped it around to get a better look. Two shading pencils, brand new and ready to use, carefully rested under the plastic.

I actually think that Brittany is a rainy day when the sun is peeking through the clouds and a bright rainbow streaks across the sky. I think the best part of the present wasn't that it was shading pencils and I didn't have any and I really wanted them. No. The best part was that Brittany gave them to me because she wanted to, not because she was trying to get on my good side because she was dating you.

In a way, that was the worst part, too because it made me really confused and kind of angry because how could this person who I barely even knew and didn't even like give me a present and my dad hadn't even gone through the trouble to get me a stupid cupcake last year.

Sometimes I don't know why I say the things I say, but at that moment, all I could do was mumble, "thanks, Ms. Pierce," because I was a little shocked and for once, not really thinking.

"Sure. Happy Birthday, Cass." She stood up and lifted her backpack off the ground, hitching it over one shoulder. "By the way, you can call me Brittany, you know."

She patted me on the shoulder and bounced down the stairs. "Ms. Pierce!" She was just about to turn the corner, but she popped her head back around and smiled.

"Yeah?"

"Can you, uh, not tell Santana about this?"

She smiled bigger and laughed and I think she knew she was slowly winning me over. Damn her. "Sure." She gave a little waggle of her fingers and disappeared around the corner and I was left sitting in that isolated stairwell, confused and a little uncertain, soft wisps of wind tingling down my arms.

* * *

><p>One time I heard Puck telling Quinn that you don't allow yourself to feel very much. I don't think that's true. You and I are similar in the way where we feel way <em>too<em> much.

I think a lot of people feel things and are able to compartmentalize each feeling so that they know what they're feeling and are able to appreciate whatever emotion that's coursing through their body.

We don't do that. We compartmentalize, sure. But we compartmentalize the fact that we are even feeling at all. And this works, until that moment when the feelings build up, from little waves lapping at the shore to raging tsunamis.

When I moved to New York I had done that. I had stowed away the sadness from leaving, the anger at my dad, the confusion at the overwhelming change. And then I had hid away the happiness and sense of belonging I had felt when you showed me what's it's like to have someone really give a shit about you because I felt a little guilty that I was happy because I told myself I wouldn't let myself get to that point. I would stay in New York only for as long as I had to. I wouldn't let myself find a niche, get comfortable, be happy.

But I was happy. I was too happy.

"_I want to make things better for you."_

You were perfect, all the things I didn't want, but everything I needed. It all happened so fast, really. One day I was closed off and bitter at all the bad shit that happened to me. My mom dying, the baby, Abuela, my dad getting arrested, leaving Ohio. And the next day, I was happy, comfortable with you, awestruck at my new life in New York and how _easy_ living with you was.

"_We're family."_

It was so much.

It was amazing that I could feel all that. I could feel so much and then sit in the bar and watch you give that collected smile to everyone and watch you and Puck work off on another, a strange, familiar symbiosis collection of water colors; the paint couldn't work without water, and without paint, the water would be colorless.

I could just sit there and watch and feel that calm feeling that hovers over the air after the destruction of that tsunami of feelings.

I had family that wasn't screwed up. I was happy. Things were… normal.

Maybe fate was on my side after all.


	26. The Things That Matter

**A/N:** Hi, everyone! So this chapter is long compared to other Cass POVs because I've had a ton of time to write. I'm on break and in the middle of nowhere without internet and my family came into town for Starbucks so I got Wifi and decided to give this to you. I hope you enjoy.

Also, I have a started a very brief outline for a new story, just an fyi. And I'm looking for a beta. I have been apprehensive to get one because I'm lame like that, but I'm looking for one now. If you are a good editor, but also helpful with ideas and helping me keep the right voice and such... PM me or something. I'm not sure how the beta thing works, maybe someone could help me? Thanks to all who reviewed. With lots of love,

Angie

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

"Hi."

"You skipped gym again."

As you can probably tell, Tía, nothing gets past John Crater. Especially the fact that I had skived on Brittany's class again. I had done it three times by then. And as far as I could tell, Brittany hadn't said anything about it to you. I'm not sure if she believed it to be my choice to go to class or not, or if she was trying to get on my good side, but either way, I appreciated that she hadn't ratted me out to you.

I guess maybe I kept ditching because I could feel the small amount of control I had over her slipping. Not that I had control over her, but it was easy when I could decide if I wanted to like her or not and I liked that I had control over that.

The thing was, she made you so happy, and you were – _are_ – disgustingly cute together. The night before, she had come over for dinner again and you guys cooked together and God, just, I can't even think about it right now. That's how cute you were. She made you all giggly and you almost burnt the chicken because you were too busy watching her wiggle to some imaginary beat while she washed a pan. I'm not even exaggerating, I swear.

The point is that the happier she made you, and the more time I spent around her, I could feel myself slowly starting to like her. She was all smiles all the time. She was funny. And she knew all the right things to say to make your cheeks darken slightly. It was infuriatingly endearing.

So I skipped. Sue me.

"Yeah, so?"

John just shrugged and sat down across from me and spread his lunch on the table. He seemed extra tall today. Like a lanky redwood, shooting into the sky. "Where do you go when you ditch?"

"Nowhere really. The library. Or the staircase on the east side."

"Oh." He laughed quietly. "I thought you left school."

I raised my eyebrows. "Where would I go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere cool. Like the art museum. Or, I don't know. Just somewhere cool, okay?"

"Where do you go when you don't go to class?"

"I always go to class."

I set my sandwich down on the table and really looked at him, taking in his sheepish smile and light blonde hair, slightly ruffled from gym. "You've never ditched before?" He shook his head and I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up my throat. "Oh my God. Dude. You need to get out more."

He shrugged and I thought about pointing out that he was a total nerd, but I realized he probably didn't care. Then I had an idea. "C'mon," I told him, as I stood up and tossed my half eaten sandwich into the nearest trash can.

He shot me a confused look and I wanted to laugh. He was sort of cute. Kind of. _Whatever._ "C'mon _where_?"

I smiled hugely, excited about my idea. "Somewhere cool."

* * *

><p>There's something amazing about the city that I can't quite put my finger on. It feels alive. The buildings seem to swell with energy and it's like there's a general atmosphere of wonderment and purpose that everyone can feel. It's invigorating.<p>

"Why are we doing this again?"

I rolled my eyes and looked over at John. He was twisting his head back and forth, taking everything in. "I'm culturing you. You need to live a little."

"Okay, but why are we _here_?"

By here, he meant Battery Park.

I shrugged sheepishly. "It's cool."

"It's touristy." He sighed and met my eyes. He has really dark blue eyes, interlaced with these cool black flecks. They're the calm that comes after hurricanes, the stillness after tsunamis, settling over you with a natural ease. "And now we won't make it back until after school is over."

I ignored him and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the nearest hot dog vendor. I wanted to laugh because he seemed surprised that our fingers were tangled together. Boys are so dumb, but I don't think I really have to tell _you_ that, Tía.

John lightened up after he ate _three_ hot dogs. Maybe he was hungry because we left during lunch, but Jesus. Boys are so weird, I don't get it.

"Okay," I said, crumbling up the aluminum foil from my (one) hot dog. "Do you want to see why I think this place is cool?"

He gave me a lighthearted shrug and a goofy grin. "Yeah, okay."

I led him through a maze of people and past vendors selling shirts and hats and posters until I found what I was looking for.

I had never used spray paint to make my art, but as I looked at the guy, barely older than me, spinning around his canvas as he sprayed it dark blue, I desperately wanted to try.

I'm pretty sure this was a different guy than the one I saw when you brought me to see the Statue of Liberty, but he was just as good. He had a pretty decent crowd, but I grabbed John's hand again and squeezed through to the front so I could see better. I hate being short sometimes.

Watching this guy do his thing, I was pretty sure I could do it, easy. It wasn't as complicated as it had originally looked. You just had to layer the colors right and know when to put tape on so that you wouldn't have too much color when you didn't need it. Then you would just blot and scrape and, voila, cool spray paint art.

We watched the guy make about four or five paintings and then I dragged John back out of the crowd.

He looked at me expectantly as we weaved in and out of groups of people standing around taking pictures of everything in sight. "So that was it, huh? Cass' big surprise?"

He was teasing, but I still felt defensive. "It's just really cool, okay? And I thought it'd be better than school, so shut up."

He laughed loudly and I could see that too-energized, too-spastic part of him that came out when he was nervous or really happy. His pace unconsciously picked up, his long legs surging forward excitedly. "No! It _was_ cool, though. And it's so you. Can you do that? I bet you can. Can you?"

I laughed at his exuberance and tried to make my short legs keep up with his long strides. "I don't know."

"Well, have you ever tried?"

"No, but I want to."

He stopped walking and pointed across the street to the subway station. "Do you want to go back?"

"Sure." We crossed the street and while we were waiting for the train, John looked at me nervously. "What?"

He took a deep breath, cheeks hollowing out comically. "Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?"

"I can't," I told him. "I'm going to a play with my aunt." I didn't really think it was necessary to tell him you were dating Ms. Pierce and she was the reason we were going. Maybe Ms. Pierce didn't want people to know she was gay.

Disappointment flashed across his face, and I was surprised I felt guilty and a little sad that I had to say no. It had been a really fun day. "Sorry," I whispered and he just shook his head, his happy smile returning.

"That's okay, I had a lot of fun today. Thanks for kidnapping me."

I laughed and shrugged. "Me too, anytime."

When we were on the subway, John turned back to me, that same excitement from before still in his eyes. "So, do you think you could do it?"

"What, spray paint like that?" He nodded and I shrugged. "I think I could, after a bit of practice."

"You should try!"

I laughed lightly, letting his easy going attitude engulf me in a light happiness I wasn't used to feeling. "This is us." I led him off the train when it cruised to a stop, proud that I was getting the hang of the subway.

I started to head back toward school, but John grabbed my hand and pulled me the other way. "Where are we going?"

Interlacing our fingers again, he smiled brightly. "Somewhere cool."

* * *

><p>"No. John, no."<p>

"Come on, Cass, I don't care, I want to."

"No."

"Yes."

It probably wasn't polite to be arguing in front of the cashier at Hanson's Art Supplies, but that's what was happening. John had taken me there, said it was _his_ special art place, and proceeded to try to convince me to let him buy me stuff to spray paint with. I didn't need his charity, I had money saved up.

"No, give it up."

He rolled his eyes and grabbed the basket of stuff from my hands and slid it across the counter to the cashier. She rang it up and he pushed me aside and handed over his credit card.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Can't a guy buy a girl some art supplies without an interrogation?"

"No, I can buy my own art supplies."

I could see him shake out his leaves, limbs readying for an argument. "I know, but if you're good then you'll have to keep buying them when you use it all. At least let me start you off."

I wanted to argue, but it was too late. The cashier slid a receipt across the counter and he signed it, then grabbed the bag with supplies and smiled brightly at me. He looked so dorky, with his giant smile and crooked glasses, the backpack on his back way too big for him. It was annoyingly endearing.

I sighed. "Fine." He grinned even bigger and… just, ugh.

We walked back to school and sat outside, sorting through the things we got at the store. John pulled out one of the many thin canvases and a few cans of spray paint. A scraper and some masking tape. Then he told me to stay there, and he ran into the school, coming out a few minutes later with a bunch of paper towels.

Finally, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a red bandana.

"What's that for?" I eyed it curiously.

John puffed up, a big fluffy marshmallow of excitement, like he was glad he knew something I didn't. "So the fumes don't make you loopy. You cover your mouth and nose with it."

"Oh." I hadn't thought of that, but I did remember the guy had his shirt pulled up over his mouth. I guess I had just been too busy staring at his hands. "Why do you even have that?"

"I had it from when Mel and I graffitied once and I had kept it in my backpack and later stored it in my locker." He twisted it around his fingers before handing it to me. "Okay, so do you want to try?"

We spent the next two hours experimenting and goofing around and when I went home later, I realized that that day was the most fun I'd had since coming to New York.

Now that I think back on it, I don't really think it had much to do with skipping school, but more to do with the quirky kid I had spent the day with.

Who'd have known.

* * *

><p>Everybody has their thing. Mine is art. Rachel's is performing. Kurt's is fashion. Yours might be bartending.<p>

Brittany's is definitely dancing.

Watching Brittany on that stage was like watching an eagle glide through the air, or a surfer ride out a huge wave. It was miraculous and natural and I had never seen anything like it.

But more than that, watching _you_ watch Brittany was like watching a mother see her baby for the first time. It reminded me of when my cousin Miguel was trying to teach me to ride my bike, but I kept falling. I would get going and as soon as he let go, I would be on the ground. Then one time I made it like, halfway down the street, maybe ten feet, before I fell. I started crying because I had been so close and then I fell, and frustrated, I picked my bike up, just to push it back down on the ground. But Miguel had picked me up and swung me around in a circle excitedly.

"Tu lo hisiste! You did it, Cass!"

He gave me this proud look that I didn't understand, but it felt like heat was spreading to my toes and he kept laughing happily.

Looking at you reminded me of him, but instead of looking at me, you were looking at Brittany. Your eyes were wide and your mouth was open slightly and I swear the buttons on your tight white polo shirt were going to burst, you were so swollen with pride.

Tía, watching you love Brittany is like watching the sun rise every day. It is gentle and tender on some days, and fiery and colorful on others. But no matter what, the sun always comes up, and even on your worst days, it's obvious you always love Brittany.

Watching you love Brittany makes me feel like all that cheesy love stuff is real. But it also makes me angry. It makes me angry at all the injustice in the world. Your love is so obvious to me. When I think of you, I think of my aunt and how fiery you are and how passionate you can be and how protective you are, of yourself and of others. But mostly I think of how you can love somebody so, so hard and how that person just happens to be a girl. And I wonder why that matters.

You love Brittany more than so many people love all the people they love put together. You have always loved Brittany, even when you weren't sure what you felt for her. It was obvious from the first time she came over for dinner. The way you look at her is so special.

You look at Puck with this fond annoyance, like you can't believe you care about him even a little bit. You look at Rachel like you're happy that you've been important to someone who is doing amazing things with their life. You look at Kurt like he's a dork, but you like him anyway. You look at Quinn like she's the biggest waste of space to ever come into your life, but you can't help but love her.

You look at me like you're still surprised I'm in your life, like you can't believe that together we make a pretty good little family.

But you look at Brittany like you've never seen her before. Every time. Like this wonderful, beautiful person had just been introduced to you the minute before. Sometimes you look at her like you're confused, and I think you're confused as to why she even likes you (I'm still confused on that, too, a little. (Ha, just kidding, Tía)).

The way you look at her should be enough proof that together you are just like everyone else. Better even.

Either way, the way you looked at her after you saw her dance was enough to make me want to get the fuck out of there before you started dry humping in front of everyone. Don't make that face, Tía. I wouldn't put it past you.

I thought getting out of there would be enough, but of course it wasn't.

The next morning I had woken up and sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee like I always do when I wake up before you. You always sleep so late. I have never met an adult who sleeps in as much as you do.

Anyway, I had flipped through the paper and there was this comic and it was making fun of that Balloon Boy kid from so long ago so I grabbed my sketch pad and started drawing. I was lost in my own little world and then the chair across the table scraped across the floor and Brittany plopped down in it. And I remember thinking _of course she slept over_.

I looked up and she smiled softly through a yawn, completely at ease like we had been in this situation a million times. Like it wasn't weird that my teacher had fucked my aunt then came to hang out in the kitchen with me the next morning. But that's Brittany, I guess.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," I said cautiously. The night before had made me feel strange. I felt comfortable around Brittany and that was making me wary. Also, did I mention she was my teacher and she was fucking my aunt?

"What are you drawing?"

I shrugged. "Hot air balloons."

"Can I see?"

"No," I shot out with a sense of too much urgency. Her lips twitched and I quickly continued. "I mean, it's not done yet."

She nodded and smiled warmly, like she understood. I didn't see why she would, most people didn't. They would say they didn't care because they bet my art was still good, even if it wasn't done. But I like my art to be done before people see it. If they see it when it's not, they're seeing an imperfect version of me. Not that I'm perfect, but it's not the whole version of me if it's not done. It's not the message or the picture I intended it to be.

I don't know. It's complicated, okay?

Brittany stood up and poured herself a cup of coffee, dumping a little bit of sugar in it. I like my coffee black, just like you.

"In Colorado, they have this really cool hot air balloon festival in Steamboat. You get up at like, four in the morning and then a bunch of balloons float up into the air. It's unbelievable." She smiled brightly as she sat back down across from me.

I set my blue pastel down and gave her my attention. I thought I could at least try. For you, if not for any other reason.

"Have you ever been in one?"

She seemed pleased I was having a conversation with her that wasn't slightly abrasive and stand-offish. "No, but I want to. That'd be awesome."

I shrugged. "I think it looks scary. What do you do if there starts to be too much wind? Can you even steer the thing?"

"I don't know. That's why it would be fun, though."

I nodded and tilted my head to the side, looking at her looking at me softly. "You're a really good dancer," I said. "I don't know how you do it."

"Dancing isn't really something I do." I looked at her confused and she continued. "Dancing is something I am."

I remember smiling hugely, surprised that Brittany had said something like that. "Me too. I mean, about art."

She nodded. "Are you hungry? We could make breakfast."

"Okay."

She smiled again and stood up, opening the fridge and holding the door at arm's length. "What are you hungry for?"

I noticed she was wearing your hoodie. I had seen you wear it once, and I liked it. I kind of wanted to steal it. "Pancakes," I suggested, because you always made pancakes so it seemed right.

"Okay," she nodded and rummaged in the fridge. "Bacon?"

"Yeah."

She took the package out of the fridge and set it on the counter. Then I told her where the pans and stuff were, and soon we were making pancakes. While Brittany flipped the pancakes, I put the bacon in the microwave.

"Brittany," I said, and the name sounded weird on my tongue, like it knew it was disrespectful to not call my teacher Ms. Pierce.

"Yeah?" She sounded like she didn't even notice I had called her by her first name. She just kept pouring little circles of batter in the pan.

"I'm sorry I was so… rude to you. Before." I breathed out through my teeth. It felt strange to apologize to a teacher while she was in my kitchen making me breakfast.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes soft and cool like the local pool I used to go to back in Ohio during the summer. "It's okay." She shrugged and flipped on the radio next to the coffee pot. I don't even know why you have that radio, Tía. I've never seen you use it. It was playing Ryan Seacrest's top 40 countdown and Brittany started to wiggle around to the song popping from the speakers. I just watched her for a second before she whipped around and grabbed my hand, pulling me so I slid across the floor in my socks. I laughed at her dorky energy and she spun me around and I couldn't remember why I had been trying to not like her.

"Hey," she asked. "Does Santana even like pancakes?"

"Yeah," I laughed out, sliding back to the microwave to take out the bacon. "Actually her pancakes are the shit, but don't tell her I said so." She nodded and I saw you slink into the kitchen, a dubious look on your face, before you slid into the chair I had been sitting in before. Brittany gave you coffee and when I gave her a high-five, your eyes bugged out so much that I couldn't help the loud laugh I let out.

You missed the wink Brittany shot me, but I don't think it matters.

Somehow, I think it was just for me.

* * *

><p>A cold bead of sweat dripped down my nose and it felt nice against my hot face. Despite the chilly November air, I was burning up. I ran my hand over my forehead and blotted some paint away from the canvas. I leaned back a little, looking at the seaside bridge and sunset I had created out of nothing but my spray paints and a thin canvas. A feeling of pride and happiness shot through me and I let out a happy breath.<p>

I looked up at the small crowd of people that had assembled around me and held up the canvas. A few people clapped and a man stepped forward.

"How much?"

"Uh…" I wasn't really sure and I could feel nerves settling in my stomach now that I wasn't painting. "Thirty?"

A little boy jumped out on the left. "I have thirty-five dollars. Can I please have it? Please?"

He was cute and I looked at the man apologetically. "Sorry." I handed the canvas to the little boy. "Be really careful, okay? It's still wet." He nodded eagerly and gave me a few bills. I dropped them into the empty jar next to my supplies. I had stolen it from the trash last night after you had made spaghetti.

The boy ran back to his mom and I slid the next canvas over to me, preparing for the next painting.

It was amazing to be out on the street, just like those guys I had seen, painting and making art. I had done all my research and practiced and now I was selling my stuff. It was so legit.

At first, I had felt a little guilty. I had lied to you, saying I had study group after school, knowing you wouldn't let me go down to the bay alone. Adults worry too much. But once I had the idea in my head, I really wanted to go. I could use the money. I hadn't brought much with me to New York and I really needed it, just in case. Plus, the more I had, the better quality supplies I could get.

When I got down there, I just picked a spot and started spraying and after only two minutes, people had starting watching. It was so awesome. And I was glad that little boy was my first customer. It made me feel good inside, like when you eat four pieces of pizza and even though you're full, it feels so good that you just ate so much deliciousness.

For two hours, I kept at it. I sprayed and blotted and scraped and bargained. By the time I finished my last painting, my knees were sore from kneeling on the hard ground and I had paint all over my hands and my ripped jeans.

I sold the picture of the skyline at night, a big moon hanging down, to a younger woman, and wiped off my colorful palms. The crowd looked on expectantly, like they were waiting for more, and I held up my hands. "Sorry, guys. That's all for today." A few people let out a disappointed groan and I smiled as everyone began to leave. I packed up all my stuff in my backpack and jumped, startled, when a hand reached down to help me up.

I looked up and felt the blood rush out of my cheeks. Then I grabbed Brittany's hand and stood up. "Hi," she said brightly.

"Hello," I awkwardly replied, my hands tingling in frightened anticipation. I hadn't even made it one day without getting caught. "How long have you been here?"

She shrugged, hair bouncing on her shoulders. "About an hour."

I closed my eyes in defeat. Great. There was no way I could talk myself out of the situation. "Oh."

She reached down and picked up my backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. "You look hungry, and Santana had to go into work early today. Why don't you come with me?" My eyes widened in surprise. But Brittany has always been like that, saying and doing the last thing you expect. I had thought I was going to get in trouble, and instead she offered me dinner.

"Okay." She smiled and hitched my backpack up farther on her shoulder before turning and walking away. I scurried after her, trying to match her long strides. She led me underground and paid for my subway ticket.

When we got on the train, she opened my backpack and held up the jar. I would've been mad that she was going through my shit, but she _had _caught me. "How much did you make?"

I had sold five paintings, and I had done it for about thirty dollars each. "Probably around $150."

I could see genuine curiosity flit across Brittany's face, fast as lightning. Her eyes were waves, bubbling up the shore at high tide. "How long were you out there?"

"Since school ended." She nodded and put the jar back in my backpack. "What were you doing there?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag of round chocolates. "I had to get these for my roommate. They're his favorite and I lost a bet." She shrugged cutely and I cursed my luck.

We didn't really talk anymore for the rest of the trip. Brittany kept looking at me though, her ocean eyes studying me intensely. It made me uncomfortable and I checked my phone. I had a message from you saying you had to go into work early, but you left money for me to order pizza. I guess it didn't matter much since Brittany was feeding me.

We got off the train and walked a few blocks over and she led me into an apartment building and up to the fourth floor. I never really realized how lucky it was that yours was on the first floor.

"How come Santana never spends the night here?" I asked as she unlocked the door.

"I don't like to disturb Mike." I guessed Mike was her roommate. "Plus," she smiled at me. "I don't think Santana really likes to leave you home alone."

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think you think I'm like, five or something. "I can take care of myself, I'm not a baby."

"Oh, I know. I just think she feels guilty. Santana doesn't like being lonely." Brittany set my backpack on the kitchen table. I made an interested noise. I had never really thought of you as being lonely, but I guess before I came you probably were. "Anyway, if she stays here, then you and I can't hang out."

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not, so I just stared at her. Sometimes I think Brittany says things that make it seem like she's kidding, but really she means it, she just doesn't want you to feel pressured to respond. I think that's her way of feeling self-conscious. Brittany is a very complex person sometimes.

"So…" I said and sat down at the table. Brittany opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. "Where _is_ your roommate?"

Brittany shrugged. "I'm not sure." She reached into the fridge again, a thoughtful look on her face. Then her nose scrunched and she looked at me. "Do you like Chinese?"

"Yeah."

Brittany nodded and picked up the phone. "Kay, what do you like?"

"Uh…" It felt weird to be in a teacher's house, having them order me takeout. I think I needed to stop thinking of Brittany as my teacher and start just thinking of her as Brittany. Otherwise I would never get over the weirdness. "Cashew chicken?"

She dialed the phone and started ordering and I was thoughtful while I watched her. I still wasn't sure if I was in trouble yet. I wondered if she would tell you. Maybe I could ask her not to.

She hung up and sat down across from me. "You're really good at that spray paint thing," she said.

"That was my first time," I admitted sheepishly.

"It was cool. You should get Santana to hang one up in the apartment."

"Actually," I began, clearing my throat nervously. "She doesn't know I can do that. I didn't tell her where I was going. She thinks I'm at a study group."

Brittany stared at me, her lips twisting in thought. Her fingers twiddled on the tabletop, tapping out a beat. Brittany's face is like a traffic light. You can always tell what she's thinking. When to keep going and when to stop and just let her think. Right then it was on yellow, like she was trying to decide what she should say.

"Why did you lie?" She eventually asked.

"What if she said no?"

"She might've said yes. You don't know if you don't ask."

"I didn't want to risk it." She opened her mouth to say something else, but I kept going. "I really needed to do this. And it would be really, really cool if you didn't tell her."

Her cheeks sucked in, and I thought that meant red. I closed my mouth. "You want me to keep this from Santana?" I nodded and held my breath. Her lips thinned and I could see the reluctance in her eyes. Brittany doesn't like secrets.

"Please, Britt," I whined. I was desperate.

She closed her eyes and breathed out deeply. The air blew her bangs slightly. She pressed her palm to her forehead before opening her eyes. "Are you going to go again?"

"Yes. Santana thinks I have study group three times a week." I needed to tell the truth or she would definitely tell.

"Fine," she said after a minute. "But you have to make me a promise." I nodded and she looked at me seriously. "You have to let me come with you. And if I can't you have to text me so that I know you're safe."

"Okay." I nodded eagerly. I could do that.

"Promise?" She stuck her pinkie out and I felt the corners of my mouth pull up.

"If you promise not to tell."

She exhaled again, but nodded. I grabbed her pinkie, twisting it around my own. "Deal." She made a face, like she couldn't believe she had just agreed to that.

The door opened and a lanky Asian guy walked in carrying our Chinese. "Britt," he called. "Did you order food?"

She stood up from the table and grabbed the bag from him. "Yeah, let me pay you back."

He waved her off. "Don't worry about it, you can just pay for my dinner next week or something."

"Okay." She pointed to me. "Mikey, this is Cass, Santana's niece. Cass, this is my roommate, Mike."

"Nice to meet you," I said politely. I didn't want to upset Brittany after she had just promised me something she didn't want to promise. Plus, he did just pay for my food.

"Wow," he smiled at me. "You look just like Santana!" I rolled my eyes. I had heard that enough by then for the compliment to start to wear off.

"Thanks," I said dryly.

Brittany smile hugely and I couldn't help but smile a little too. Sometimes I feel like Brittany's emotions are light as air. She feels everything so easily and naturally. Then she lets her feelings float around the room so you feel them too, like paint fumes dissipating and diffusing.

She's the perfect match for you. You always hold your feelings back, like you're calculating if you should be feeling whatever your feeling. If I wait long enough, you'll show me what's going on in your mind, but I have to be patient. Brittany just pulls everything right from your brain, like she knows what's going on in that head of yours. She does that to me, too. Sometimes it's really annoying.

"Here, Cass." Brittany put my chicken in front of me and handed me a fork. "I don't do chopsticks," she said with a smile.

I nodded. "That's okay. Thanks."

"Of course." She smiled and sat down and her roommate disappeared down the hall.

We ate in silence until her phone rang and I watched the corners of her mouth twitch when she answered. "Hello?" Her voice popped like the Jiffy Pop I had when I went camping with my cousins once. It was bubbly and excited.

"Hi," she said, leaning back in her chair, like someone had just taken a load off of her shoulders. "Eating dinner with Cass." Her eyes shot to me and she smiled. "Yeah, I talked to her after school when you told me you had to go in early."

I laughed when I realized she was talking to you. And I was glad because I didn't think she'd say anything about me lying to you. I watched as she bit her lip, but a smile formed around it. Then her cheeks darkened and really quietly, she said, "I miss you, too."

I raised my eyebrows at her and she flushed darker. It was really cute. "Okay, I will." Her lips thinned, then she opened her mouth like she was going to say something else. Then she made a pained expression and closed her mouth again. "See you later," she sighed out.

She hung up the phone and smiled down at her food, cheeks still burning like red Starburst. That's when I realized that Brittany loved you. Her usually bouncy attitude was flushed and spacey, like she couldn't stop thinking about you. I didn't know if I wanted to smile or puke.

We finished eating and then Brittany cleaned up and said she'd walk me home since it was dark out. When we got to the apartment, she gave me a big hug and told me she'd see me tomorrow. I tilted my head to the side and looked in her eyes, darker than normal in the black of the night.

"Britt," I said. "Do you love Santana?"

Her eyes widened and I think it was one of the only times I was able to surprise her. She avoided my question, laughing and pushing at my shoulder.

"Get inside. See you in third period."

I smiled and later when I was hiding my money jar under my head, I realized that it didn't matter if she didn't answer my question.

Because I knew the answer was yes.

And that's all that really mattered.


	27. Remembering and Forgetting

**A/N:** Hello readers, here is the next installment. Thanks to all who reviewed and my new subscribers! I'd like to take a second to thank one of my new betas **Whedonist** for helping me out with this.

Unfortunately I think this might be the last chapter for this story. A lot of things have come up for me and I don't know if I can handle it anymore.

Nah, I'm just kidding. Happy April Fool's Day ;) I love you guys.

* * *

><p>Is it sad that I can't remember what Thanksgiving was like before Mom was gone? I can remember the year she died perfectly. Before that… it's like I'm a blank slate.<p>

The year she died, Dad said he had to work and I could make myself grilled cheese or something for dinner. I don't think he had to work. I think he was at the bar watching the football game because when he came back later he smelled like booze.

That year, I got up early and watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade and after it was over, I made myself a turkey sandwich because I didn't know how to make grilled cheese yet. I didn't even know how to make grilled cheese until I moved in with you.

One year I tried to make turkey. That was a disaster. I am never making turkey again. In fact, I'm going to marry some guy who knows how to cook so I never have to make _anything_ again.

Thanksgiving with you reminded me of what it's like to have a real holiday. One with family and friends and good food. I think I had forgotten that holidays like that still exist.

I remember waking up early like I always seem to since moving to New York. I put the coffee pot on, and then I wondered if _Charlie Brown_ was on TV, so I clicked on the remote and started flicking through channels. Then I saw the parade was on and I got excited.

At a commercial, I decided that it was time for you to get up. Why do you always sleep so late?

I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning as I crept into your room, and now that I think about it, why do kids always creep into their parents' rooms if all they're going to do is wake them up anyway? Why not run in screaming?

The sun was floating in through the small crack in your blinds and undulated rays of light fell on your covers and I smiled a little bit because you were snoring quietly. I bent over you really slowly and touched your arm. "Tía. Wake up."

You shifted a little, trying to escape the reality I was calling you to. "Tía. Come on, wake up." You buried your face in the pillows and I rolled my eyes. "Tía, get up!" I shook your arm hard and your eyes blinked open and focused on my face.

"Huh?"

"Get up."

Your hand rubbed away a little dried drool at the corner of your mouth and you sat up suddenly. "What's wrong? Did you burn something? Are you okay?"

"Yes," I drew the word out, both annoyed and amused at how you worry too easily and too much. "I'm fine."

"What's wrong?" You sat up and pulled the covers off of you, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The freshness of the morning made you shiver a little in your tank top and tiny cotton shorts.

"Nothing." I felt kind of stupid for getting you out of bed then. I'm not five, I can be by myself for an hour. "I uh… wanted you to watch TV with me."

You blinked again, eyes squeezing shut like you were willing the grogginess away. "What time is it?" I just shrugged and started to slink out of your room, embarrassed that I had woken you up. I felt young and foolish, like that kid who still picks his nose in fifth grade. I didn't want to be that kid.

I sat back down on the couch just as the parade came back on and tried to ignore the fact that I had just done that, it was mortifying. I figured you had gone back to sleep but a few seconds later I heard you clinking around in the kitchen.

You plopped down next to me on the couch and I avoided your eyes, heat creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. You didn't seem to notice. "What are we watching?"

"The Macy's Parade."

You let out a crackly laugh, warm like fire. "Oh my God," you said, as you curled your legs up on the couch. "I haven't watched this since high school." I made a noise in acknowledgement, still a little embarrassed. Sometimes I forget you are an adult and have been living this life for much longer than me.

"I always watch it," I said eventually, when you had more time to drink your coffee and perk up a little. You smiled at me and you were like a lazy basset hound that had been lying in the shade on the front porch all day. Sleepy and content in a way that I would come to always think of you when I thought of Saturday mornings.

"Maybe we can go next year."

I smiled at that, of the thought of something certain and tangible happening in the future. Something that wasn't lonely microwave dinners. "Okay."

"What's your favorite one?"

I shrugged and thought about my twelve-year-old self, alone and cuddled on the couch, excited when I saw Snoopy and his aviator hat appear on my screen. "Snoopy."

You nodded, eyes glued to the screen and stretched out your legs. Your toes wiggled a little and then you stuck them under my sweatpants-covered thighs, trying to warm them up, and took a sip of your coffee. It was natural, like we had done this every Thanksgiving and I shifted closer to you, letting the warmth of the moment spread over me. You were a flame and everything about me was an icicle and slowly, slowly you were melting away my sharp edges and cold exterior until I had melted and was dripping down the sides of the couch and onto the floor.

I suddenly wasn't embarrassed anymore. Instead I was glad I had woken you up, glad that I could spend this Thanksgiving with you.

Glad that for the first time since I could remember, I was thankful for the holidays.

* * *

><p>I don't know why things work out the way do. I don't know why good things happen to bad people and why bad things happen to good people. I don't know why things have to get worse before they get better.<p>

Karma, maybe.

If there is one thing I am pretty sure of, though, it's that everything that happens to you leads you to somewhere else. Life is a mess of experiences, moments we collect like coins in a jar.

I'm not sure why my mom had to die from cancer when I was twelve years old.

But it seems that because that happened, everything else that is important in my life happened, too.

Because she died, my dad became a recreational drug user and an alcoholic. Because that happened, my life got a little out of control and I got pregnant. And because that happened, Abuela didn't want to take care of me when my dad got arrested.

And all of that led me to you.

I'm not happy about any of the things that happened in my past. I'm not proud, and I don't wish they had happened.

But if there is one thing to be grateful for, it's that these things were all part of the path that led me to you and New York.

When something bad happens to a person… _that_ changes them. It changes their life. Sometimes it can bring people closer. Other times… not so much.

I've had a lot of bad things happen to me, whether they were my fault or not.I can easily say that these things did _not_ bring my family closer. It tore them apart.

Before Thanksgiving with you, Tía, it had been a long time since I had told someone I loved them. It had been an even longer time since someone told me that they loved me.

That day was the happiest I had been in a long time.

It made me happy to watch you grumble to yourself while you made Vegan mashed potatoes, thanks to Rachel. It had made me happy to finally eat turkey for Thanksgiving, even if it was tofu or some shit.

I was happy to be with you and Brittany and Kurt and Rachel and Blaine. I was even happy to have 'sharing time.' I had a lot to be thankful for.

I was happy to be with people I loved. People who would say things just to embarrass you with me (Britt). People who would talk football with me (Blaine). And people would make me laugh by unintentionally annoying you (Rachel).

But most of all, I was happy to be with people who loved me.

And I guess that's why I'm still writing this.

Because I love you, too, Tía.

Just so you know.

* * *

><p>Sometimes I try to forget.<p>

Unfortunately, forgetting is hard. Every time I go a few days without thinking about it, it finds a way to pop back into my life, reminding me of my mistakes.

"Alright, everyone take a seat!"

I had been going to all my classes, even gym, but at that moment I felt apprehensive, sensing that maybe I should've skipped. Brittany had pulled the bleachers out and was standing there with her hands on her hips. I looked at John but he just shrugged, so I followed him to sit down.

Once the whole class had filed in and taken a seat, Brittany clapped her hands together twice and smiled brightly. "So, unfortunately, one day a year, the school makes me actually teach something. And that day is today. And for those of you who showed up, I'm giving you full participation points."

"What's she talking about?" I whispered to John, but then I got my answer.

"Sex education!" Brittany exclaimed. "While the official school policy is abstinence, we find it necessary to educate you guys. Try to pay attention, even though I know it's hard for you hormonal teenagers to keep it in your pants." The other kids laughed, but I just rolled my eyes. Like she wasn't spending the night at our place three times a week, doing God knows what between your sheets.

"So…" Brittany smiled. "Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant. And die!"

Beside me, John's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"It's from a movie," I told him. "It's a joke," I said, but I didn't think it was that funny. Brittany started to go on and on about condoms and birth control and statistics, but my heartbeat was in my ears and even though it had been a long time since I had seen them, two blue lines floated in front of my eyes, like they had been burned there.

Positive. Positive positive positive.

"_Tommy, I'm pregnant."_

"Condoms only work 98% of the time, guys, so you need to take more precautions to…"

"_You're… pregnant?"_

"Birth control comes in more forms than just pills and…."

"_Yeah," I choked out._

"…_Mine?" I nodded. "Oh. Wow. Fuck." I stood there, waiting. "Okay," he breathed out, brown eyes filling with determination. "Well, whatever you need, or decide, or whatever, I'll be there."_

"Talk to your doctor for more information about the different options you have for…"

"_I'm not keeping it."_

"You can take this information I have on Planned Parenthood, and feel free to ask me if you have any questions."

_He ran a hand through his hair. "Adoption?"_

"_No," I shook my head, and spun on my heel, heading toward the bathroom in case I threw up._

Positive. Positive positive positive.

"Cass."

Sneakers squeaked against hard wood and all I could see were the two blue lines and Tommy's apprehensive but determined face swimming in front of my eyes.

"Ms. Pierce!"

A cold hand pressed to my forehead and everything came back into focus. "Cass?"

I blinked rapidly and sucked in a cold breath, remembering I was in the gym. Brittany's face blurred and then sharpened and I leaned back a little. Her hand fell away and I remember her biting her lip, eyes stormy with concern.

"Is class over?" I croaked out.

"Yeah…" Brittany pinched my chin between her fingers and turned my face from side to side. "You okay? You're kind of pale."

"Yeah, I just zoned out for a moment. Sorry." I felt my cheeks heat up.

"For a moment?" John nudged my shoulder. "You were out the whole presentation."

I shifted my attention from his worried gaze to Brittany's curious eyes. "I didn't get much sleep last night," I lied.

Brittany nodded cautiously. "Do you want to go to the nurse?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay," she said. "You can sit here for a second and then go to class." She looked away me. "You're going to be late, Crater."

"I can wait with her…"

"I'm fine," I waved him off. "You can go ahead."

He nodded reluctantly. "See you at lunch?"

I nodded and he clunked down the bleachers. Brittany looked at me uncertainly and I breathed in heavily for a few minutes. "You sure you're okay?" She asked.

"Yeah." I picked up my backpack and tottered down the bleachers.

"Cass," Brittany called. I looked back at her and she fiddled with an unopened condom on the table she had set up. "I can't go with you today." She pinched her lips together like she wanted to say something else. "Will you be alright?" I nodded again. "Make sure you text me."

"Okay."

Brittany looked up at me, her eyes like stream water, smoothing over sharp rocks and trickling into the bay. "Take it easy, I'll see you later."

I smiled weakly at her and all I could see was two blue lines behind my eyelids.

Positive. Positive positive positive.

* * *

><p>Forgetting. Remembering.<p>

Spray, scrape, blot.

When I'm drawing or painting, I can't forget or remember. I feel nothing and everything. I am in between thought and non-thought. Between chaos and tranquility.

I am not in the past nor the present nor thinking about the future.

I am just me.

Just Cass.

Just Cass and a can of spray paint, shaking it in my hand and letting it whoosh out onto the canvas.

It is easy to go from one train of thought to the next, like standing on a platform and waiting for the next steam engine to roll up and take me somewhere else, or maybe to just pass me by in a blur of color and wind and leave me still waiting, waiting. I am stuck betweenthinking about something and letting it pass fleetingly, here and then gone, as if I hadn't thought of it at all.

Spray, scrape, spray, blot.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I am small as an ant and big as the surrounding skyscrapers.

I am insignificant and I am important.

I am not happy or sad, mad or uneasy or indifferent.

I am just me.

Scrape, blot, spray.

Just Cass.

* * *

><p><strong>Brittany:<strong> Did you make it there, okay?

**Brittany:** Are you alright?

**Brittany:** Cass?

**Brittany:** I will tell Santana if you don't answer me, Cass, I swear.

**Brittany:** Okay, I won't. But please tell me you're okay, I'm worried about you.

**Brittany:** Cass?

**Brittany:** Not cool, Cass.

**Brittany: ** That's it. I'm sending reinforcements.

* * *

><p>I slipped everything back into my backpack, exhausted and drained and ready to go home.<p>

"I found her, B. She's fine."

My head snapped up at the vaguely familiar voice. The crowd that had surrounded me just five minutes ago had scattered, leaving a lone person to stare at me with one hand on their hip and the other cradling a phone against their ear.

"Yeah, I'll tell her."

Quinn pocketed her phone and stared at me. I wondered why she was looking for me. I had only met her a few days ago when she had helped me with my homework at the bar.

"Brittany's worried sick about you," she said.

Crap. I had forgotten to text her. I whipped out my phone and saw a bunch of unread messages. Oops.

"I got… sucked into the canvas," I said. "I forgot to text her."

"I can see that."

I stood up and threw my backpack over my shoulders, letting it bump against my butt, heavy with notebooks and spray paint.

Quinn sighed, an irritated breath pushing through her teeth. "Well, come on."

I furrowed my eyebrows. I wanted to go home. "I should really get home."

"Nope." Her voice popped on the "P" like a bubble of chewing gum. "You're coming with me."

I was too exhausted and out of it to argue, so I followed her down the street. She led me into a small diner and I looked at her confused, but didn't say anything. Quinn is not someone you argue with.

We slid into a booth, her on one side, me on the other, and Quinn pulled out a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. I opened mine, but none of the words registered.

The waitress came by and Quinn closed her menu and ordered a chocolate milkshake. I told the waitress I'd have the same.

"What are you doing?" I asked after the waitress had left.

Quinn raised one of those perfect eyebrows at me. "Buying you a milkshake."

"Why?" She just shrugged and I sighed, frustrated. "How did you find me?"

"Brittany told me where you would be." She fiddled with her phone, eyes squinting to read something on the tiny screen.

"What else did Brittany tell you?" I was worried. Did she tell Quinn about earlier? Would one of them tell you about my near breakdown? Would you know about all the things I hadn't told you?

Quinn put down her phone and stared at me with those hazel eyes, intense and soft at the same time. "Why don't you want Santana to know about what you do down here? Your art is beautiful."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "I need the money."

Quinn made a hissing sound through her teeth. "I'm not someone you have to lie to."

I snorted. "I don't even know you."

"I'm friends with Brittany. And Santana."

"Then you would know Santana would make me stop." The waitress appeared with our milkshakes. I licked the whipped cream off the top of mine and looked up at Quinn. "Look, this is something I need to do for me. Santana wouldn't understand."

Quinn shook her head. "You think that I think Santana is a bitch."

"I think you're a bitch."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Well, I think _you're_ a bitch."

I shrugged. "We're all bitches."

Quinn just stared at me and then a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Cheers to that." She clinked her milkshake glass against mine and sucked at her straw. She looked thoughtful. After a second she said, "Except Brittany."

I nodded. "Except Brittany." Even if I wanted to be mad at Brittany for telling Quinn where I was, I couldn't. Brittany does the things she does because she cares. Plus, I _had_ broken my promise to text her.

"Britt definitely is something," Quinn said.

"How did you meet her?"

Quinn smiled, big and whole, like the memory was one she'd never get tired of thinking about. "I met Brittany here."

"Here?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "I was sitting in a booth all alone and Brittany just came over and sat down right across from me."

"Why were you alone?" I asked; just to be annoying. I like to make people mad, I told you, Tía. I can't help it.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I had just gotten out of a bad breakup and I wanted to be by myself and drown myself in chocolate milkshakes. Anyway," she continued. "She sat down across from me and I was like, what are you doing? And then she just smiled that sincere smiled she has and told me that there weren't any other tables open and I looked like I needed a friend."

I laughed, the sound buzzed around my straw like a mallet tapping a xylophone. "That sounds like Brittany."

"Yeah," Quinn nodded. "I was kind of speechless the rest of the time, but she just jabbered on like we were best friends. And now we are."

"Hmmm." We fell into an easy silence and I just watched Quinn look out the window next to our table. Sometimes, even now, I wonder why Quinn didn't make her career in front of the camera instead of behind it. She'd be perfect, with her long perfect hair, and perfect green eyes, and her perfectly sculpted nose and her perfectly lean figure.

She even has this perfect confidence, like she's settled into who she is and that's okay. I wish I was like that.

"So…" I said after a few minutes. "What are your childhood regrets?" I thought about her perfect picture, with the swings and the shadows. Maybe her career was perfect for her anyway

"I have plenty, actually."

I raised my eyebrows. "Don't we all?"

The way she nodded at me and smiled softly made me feel weird inside. For someone who was forced to grow up really fast, I hadn't felt older than I had in that moment in a really long time.

Somehow that made remembering and forgetting feel a lot more normal.

And I couldn't help but think that maybe Brittany wasn't the only friend Quinn had made in this diner.

* * *

><p>The next morning was awkward, to say the least.<p>

I had avoided Brittany the night before because she hadn't been there and you had been at work. But when I had woken up and shuffled into the kitchen to get some coffee before school, there she was, sitting at the table and reading the newspaper.

She looked up when I walked in and shot me an exasperated look. My throat felt dry and I imagined myself gulping, my throat moving up and down comically like in those cartoons. It didn't really do that, though.

"Morning," I rasped out halfheartedly.

"Morning," Brittany chirped. The sweetness in her voice made me cringe as I reached into the cabinet for a mug. I poured myself some coffee and sat across from her at the table. I wanted to get this lecture over with.

"So, what happened yesterday?" She didn't look up from the newspaper as she asked and her indifference made me fidget.

"Uh… I got a milkshake with Quinn?"

I saw her lips twitch. "You sound like Santana, smart ass." She set the newspaper on the table and finally looked at me. "But seriously."

"I'm really sorry," I whined. "I forgot, I'm sorry, please don't be mad."

She pointed at me. "You promised."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

Her eyes flashed, bulbs clicking on and off. "I am keeping this from, Santana," she whispered. "Do you know how crappy that makes me feel? And on top of that, you don't text me like you promised. Do you know how worried I was about you? I thought I was going to have a voyeurism."

My eyes widened. What? "A what?"

"You know." She motioned with her hands. "Like when your brain is going to explode."

Oh. "You mean an aneurysm?"

"That's what I said."

I bit back my smile. "Okay."

She slumped a little in her chair. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I worried you. I won't do it again, I swear."

Brittany bit her lip and her eyes flickered to the hall where I could hear water running in the bathroom. "Yeah," she sighed. "Are you sure you can't tell Santana about this?"

Panic flared in the pit of my stomach. "No. Please, Britt."

She squeezed her eyes shut before blinking them back open. "Fine." She pointed at me again and stood up from the table. "But you promised."

"Scout's honor," I said and held up three fingers.

"What did you promise?"

I snapped my head over to see you walking into the kitchen, your mouth open in a big yawn.

"That I would run laps today in gym," I quickly lied.

"Mmm." You fell into the chair Brittany just vacated and put your head in your arms. Sometimes you can be such a baby in the morning, Tía.

Brittany shot me a desperate look and I felt really guilty. I hated that she had to lie to you for me, but selling my art had become like a drug I didn't want to quit.

_Sorry_, I mouthed at her and her shoulders dropped a little, but she nodded anyway. Then she ran a hand through your hair gently and disappeared down the hall. I assumed to get ready.

I drank my coffee while I waited for it to be time to leave. You kind of just sat there, half asleep, sometimes letting out huge sighs like you wished you could go back to bed. You big baby.

A few minutes later, Brittany waltzed back into the kitchen dressed in her PE shorts and a sweatshirt. A toothbrush hung out of one side of her mouth.

"San," she said through a mouthful of foam.

You lifted your head and looked at her through half-lidded eyes. "Huh?"

Brittany put her hands on her hips. "Vu dwipped toofpaste on da shink again."

"What?" You blinked rapidly, trying to understand Brittany with the toothbrush in her mouth. "Oh. No I didn't, I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"Vu ahways do!"

"Britt, I swear it wasn't me!"

Brittany rolled her eyes and walked over to the kitchen sink. I laughed to myself. That was my bad. Not that I was going to own up to it.

You followed Brittany to the sink. "Anyway, even if I did, it's my sink and I can do what I want!"

Brittany bent over the sink and spit out a mouthful of toothpaste. Then she whipped around and planted a kiss on your lips.

You grimaced and wiped the toothpaste off your mouth and Brittany smirked. "Oops," she said through a smile.

"Gross," I said and Brittany just shrugged.

Suddenly you made a lunge for her toothbrush, still covered in foam. It was like you had drunk three cups of coffee and suddenly had the energy to run a race. You grabbed the toothbrush and wiped the end across Brittany's cheek.

"Santana!" Brittany shrieked, and dodged the next swipe of your arm. You doubled over in laughter and Brittany stole the toothbrush from your hand and ran it under the water before wiping her face. I think you forgot I was there because you pushed Brittany up against the sink and stood on your toes to kiss her. Your height difference might be amusing, but when you start making out, that's when I start getting sick.

"Okay," I called and stood up, grabbing my backpack from beside the kitchen table. I always leave it there and you always snap at me to put it in my room. "I'm leaving now."

"No! Wait for me!" Brittany skirted around you and ran down the hall. She returned a second later, toothbrush free and her own backpack thrown over her shoulder. I wondered when she had started keeping her stuff at our apartment.

"Are you ready yet?" I whined.

"One second," Brittany breathed out. She pranced over to where you were still standing at the sink. "Bye," she said, her long arms looping around your neck like a lasso.

"Bye," you said, hands coming to rest on her waist. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"I'll miss you." Brittany nuzzled her nose against yours and you let out this disgusting giggle.

"Me too. Have a good day." You leaned up and kissed her again.

"I'm seriously leaving now," I said.

"Okay, okay!" Brittany kissed you one last time. I moved toward the door.

"Have fun with those laps, Cass," you laughed out, and I turned back to you but your attention had moved elsewhere. I rolled my eyes again when I saw the puppy eyes you and Brittany were making at each other. All I could think about was that either your love was getting more obvious or you had some really good sex last night. Probably both.

I thought about how I had agreed that we go to Colorado with Brittany for Christmas. I hoped one of you would just get it out there that you loved each other. The situation was becoming irritatingly cute. I stuck my tongue out of the corner of my mouth.

"Whatever. Britt, I'm leaving." I walked out the door, swiftly moving down the hall and away from your disgustingness. Brittany caught up with me outside, a dopey smile on her face.

I sighed when she did a little twirl on the sidewalk. This needed to be stopped before I threw up.

"I dripped toothpaste on the counter."

Brittany's mouth dropped open and she stopped in her tracks.

I continued walking, a smirk on my face the whole way to school.

* * *

><p>"You're in a good mood today."<p>

I spun around, ponytail whipping against the side of my face. "Hi," I said to John.

"Hey," he smiled. "Why so bouncy?"

I shrugged. "It's just a nice day out."

"Well I'm glad you feel better than yesterday." He stretched his arms above his head and I eyed the strip of stomach between his shirt and shorts. I flicked my eyes away.

"Me too."

"So," he said, swinging his arms in circles. "I was wondering. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?"

"Out?" I asked. "You mean… like a date?"

He shrugged. "Or two friends just going out. Or, you know. A date." He flushed cutely and I shook my head.

"I can't," I told him. Guilt flooded my stomach for lying. But I definitely didn't need this right now. I had enough shit to deal with. I wasn't here for boys.

"Oh."

"Maybe… maybe next time," I smiled reluctantly. His face lit up and I felt my lips twitch in a smile. Why was this happening?

The bell rang somewhere in the school and Brittany blew her whistle. "Okay, two laps today, let's just take it easy. We're going to play kickball after."

"Come on," I turned to John. "Race ya."

I didn't wait for his answer, just took off running. His long legs caught up with me quickly, but I pushed him to the side gently and surged ahead, passing a girl with red hair and short legs. After the second lap around the gym, I stopped and put my hands on my knees, laughing.

"You lose," I told John as he jogged up, panting through gasping laughs. He picked me up and spun me around.

"Put me down," I swatted at his arms and felt his belly shake with laughter. He set me back on the ground and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. Brittany blew her whistle and I whirred around.

She was staring at me, biting her lip around a smile and raised her eyebrows. "Told you I'd run them today," I whispered as I passed her.

"Uh huh," she said and moved away, patting John on the shoulder as she picked up a kickball from the ground. "Circle up, guys," she called.

As John bumped my shoulder when I settled next to him in the group around Brittany in the middle of the gym, I remembered how it felt to feel cool air on your cheeks and wind nipping at your neck.

It felt good.


	28. Christmas Wishes

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter took so long, I had to keep asking myself What Would Cass Do because I was having trouble. So I waned to ask you guys what you think? WWCD? Any scenes you want or views on something, shoot me a message or review!

Also, last chap I made a mistake. wewillwalk betaed for me, and I gave the wrong credit. Check out her story Majorly Concussed it's fantastic. This chapter is a big thanks to her and also whedonist, so if it's your favorite, it's because they saved my butt on so many things :)

Happy hiatus over day!

* * *

><p>There's a certain freedom you feel when that final bell rings for break. An excited air of anticipation for the holidays. A happy sensation of liberation that comes with no school, no homework, no obligations.<p>

I didn't really understand that feeling until that first Christmas with you.

In Ohio, I had always felt a sense of begrudging disappointment. As much as I disliked school, I hated being home even more. Sometimes I would be alone; left to an empty, stuffy house that felt too occupied but not lived in at all. Other times my dad would be there and I would bunker down in my room, barely venturing out for wariness of a frustrated, one-sided conversation that would leave me reeling and angry.

Breaks from school had been a concept that I had looked forward to in theory, but in reality, I had dreaded them.

When I moved to New York, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had been uncertain the whole last week of school and somewhat distracted by studying for tests, cramming for finals. I had been so tightly wound that by the time the final bell went off, I couldn't help the feeling of relieved freedom that uncoiled within me.

I emptied my backpack of notebooks and folders, storing them in my locker until the next semester with a feeling of contentment and a happy smile on my face. I bounced down the school's front steps, unfolding like a slinky, elongating and stretching with each step.

Brittany typically walked home with me on Fridays, but she had to stay back and send in her final grade reports. Despite her absence, I felt a strange lack of loneliness, and I reveled in the feeling.

"Cass!"

I whipped around, barely three steps down the street on my way home, and smiled at John as he bounded down the stairs, skittering around loitering students who were chatting to their friends.

"You going home?"

I nodded. "I have to pack."

His nose scrunched up and it made his glasses inch down his nose slightly. "Pack? Where are you going?"

"Colorado," I told him.

"Oh, that's cool. I went skiing with my cousin in Aspen once." He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a blue beanie with fluffy ear flaps. Then he awkwardly smashed it down on my head, laughing goofily, like bubbles floating through the air and water splashing in the summer. "You might need that."

I rolled my eyes and pulled it off my head, tossing it at him and smoothing down my hair. "I'm not going skiing. I'm just going to meet my aunt's girlfriend's family."

"Okay," he giggled again. "Your aunt has a girlfriend?"

"Yes," I said, hoping he wouldn't ask if he knew them. I felt uncomfortable telling people that my aunt was dating Ms. Pierce.

"That's cool," he said again. "When are you going to be back?"

"The day after Christmas."

"Okay," he smiled. "Come to a party with me? On New Year's? It's at Mel's dad's."

Mel had already invited me to the party, but I wasn't sure if I was going to go, yet. "Maybe," I said.

"I was thinking we could go… _together_." He smiled hopefully, his eyes growing and hair flopping on his head as he bounced up and down eagerly.

"Together?" I asked, skeptical.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Like… we could go… and you could be my, you know… my date?" His lips twisted nervously and my heart did a black flip.

"Uh… I…" I stammered. I wanted to say yes. I didn't want to say yes. He was nerdy and nice, and so, so cute. He was also a boy. I wasn't there for boys.

"Please? Come on, Cass, you know you want all up on this." He gestured to his body and I shook my head.

"Oh my God, please don't do that again." I covered my face in embarrassment for him and for myself for being friends with him.

"It'll be fun," he drew out. "Just give me one chance, come on. If you don't like it, we can still be friends."

I sighed. "That never works."

He shrugged, waving me off. "Sure it does. I'm still friends with Mel, aren't I?"

"You dated Mel?"

"Yeah." He bounced on his toes again. "So, is that a yes?"

I could feel my resolve breaking, crumbling down in a landslide of uncertainty and softness concerning the boy in front of me.

"Alright," I let out eventually, my fingers curling tightly over the straps in my backpack like they knew I would break the boy in front of me.

"Yes?" A smile broke over his face and I reluctantly nodded, causing him to fist pump the air. I rolled my eyes again. Oh my God.

"Awesome!" He reached out and linked his long arms around my back and pulled me into an awkward hug, my arms locked between his stomach and my chest. He was so tall, and I was so small; my head rested against his strong jawline. He squeezed tighter and my nose was buried at the collar line of his shirt and I breathed in deeply, filling my senses with warmth and John, John, John because he was everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

I pulled back quickly, wishing life could be writing on a chalkboard, answers prevalent and obvious, soft and sometimes scratchy, but always easy to wipe away, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye mistakes.

"So, I'll see you in a few days?" John smiled so wide and I wished I wasn't so damaged. I wished I wasn't a red Sharpie, too bright and stuck, stuck, stuck in a never-ending cycle of wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Sure," I said, shifting from foot to foot, anxiety stirring in my chest.

"Cool," he nodded, head bobbing up and down like this was the best moment of his life. I hoped it wasn't.

He hugged me again, and he smiled like I was worth it, but I couldn't help but think that I'm not, not, not.

I really, really, really wished I could be.

* * *

><p>"Britt?" I called. "Do you need this?"<p>

I picked up the phone charger sitting on the kitchen table and glanced down the hall. We were leaving that night, and after painting, Brittany had dragged me to her apartment while she packed the rest of her stuff before we headed back home.

I pursed my lips when she didn't answer, wondering where she had gone. I tightened my grip on the cord and walked down the hall, my fingers trailing over the bumps in the wall like braille leading me toward Brittany's room.

As I neared her room at the end of the hall, Brittany's voice pierced the quiet, higher than normal and breathless.

"What am I doing, Q? I'm so stupid. This is going to be a disaster."

"_It'll be fine, Britt."_

I poked my head into Brittany's room, confused as to why Quinn was there. Brittany had her back to the doorway, frantically folding shirts on her bed, phone sitting on her pillow and lit up with a call.

"You know how he is. He's going to say something."

"_I don't know what there would be to say."_

"He'll find something," Brittany sighed, her shoulders slumping forward over the bed. "Why did I want this?"

"_You know why."_

Brittany paused, whole body skidding to an unusual stand still. "Yeah, I know," she said after a moment.

"_I don't know why you don't just tell her."_

Brittany picks up a shirt and unfolds it before re-folding it and throwing it in her suitcase on the bed. "Because Q, what if she doesn't love me back? And what if things get awkward and then we break up and then things with Cass get weird and then I lose both of them. I can't handle that, Q."

I stood there frozen, breath stuck in my lungs and the cord dangling from my fingers. I couldn't move, feet glued to the carpet, waiting and listening to things that were not for me to hear.

"_Come on, B. Don't be ridiculous."_

"I'm not, Quinn. I'm serious." Brittany tilted her head back, neck rolling, still completely unaware of my presence in her doorway. "Santana and Cass have this special connection. If I lose one, I lose both. Cass is different. She needs-"

But I didn't hear what I needed because my lungs started working again and a strangled breath bubbled in my throat. Brittany spun around, eyes wide, and my fingers went slack, cord falling to the floor. I took a step back, and then another, and then another, and then my back hit something hard. I whipped around, opening the door I had ran into, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed behind me and I flicked the lock.

"Cass." A knock on the door, frantic like a hummingbird's wings, beating, beating, beating. "Cass, please open the door."

I am different. I am wrong. I am a sinner.

Was I obvious?

"Cass, please," Brittany pleaded, voice lilting at the end.

"I don't need help," I said, breath coming out too short, too sharp. "I don't need you. I don't need anything."

"Cass-"

"I don't need Santana. I don't need…" I couldn't need anything because I was poison and I would mess it up, bleed it out, spoil it, soil it, rip it to shreds, damage it like I had damaged myself.

There was silence for a moment, then –

"Please open the door."

With shaky hands, I unlocked the door, grimacing at my lack of control. Brittany stood there, cheeks red and hair pushed back like she had ran her hands through it. Her palms came forward to clamp down on my shoulders, fingers digging into the skin and I gasped out another breath.

"Breathe," she said, steel blue eyes boring into mine, making it impossible for me to look away.

"I don't need…" I trailed off as another breath hitched out of my throat. I did need all those things, and I hated myself for it.

"I know," Brittany said. "I was just going to say… that you need someone to reassure you that you're important." She narrowed her eyes before releasing my shoulders and pulling me to her chest. Her hands rested on the back of my head, one on my neck, and the other in my hair. "You are important."

She said it so plainly, so certainly. _You are important._ I breathed again, longer, steadier.

"You are important," she said again, and I marveled at how she knew what I needed, how she had pulled the unknown uncertainty from my mind and said it like it was true, like I wasn't broken, like I wasn't a clock that ticked a beat too slow.

We stood like that for a few moments, me counting out the seconds, matching them to my breathing, and Brittany holding me in a vice-like grip, unwavering.

"You should just tell her," I mumbled eventually.

I could feel her breath ruffle the hair on top of my head as she exhaled. I pulled back and her arms fell back to her sides. "Maybe," Brittany said, lips curling into a weak smile.

"She loves you," I said, hoping we could talk about anything other than my problems.

Brittany shrugged. "I'm not really sure how this thing works."

"How what works?"

"Me," she said. "And Santana." I stared at her, confused, and she bit her lip. "I don't know how this gay thing will go over with my dad."

"This… gay thing?" I asked.

"No." She sighed and brought her palm to her forehead, eyes squeezing shut. "That came out wrong. Just… Santana is my first girlfriend, I've only been with guys, and like, I didn't even know I could like girls until I saw her and everything is so confusing…"

I thought about you then, Tía, and your one night stands and your loyalty to Brittany. "I think," I said, "that Santana loves you and love is confusing, but that's okay because if you weren't worried that'd mean you didn't care."

Brittany stared at me for a moment. "You're smart," she said.

"You're important," I told her with a smile. "To Santana."

Brittany chuckled, and for a second I felt important, too, like I had done something right for once. "And to me," I said.

Brittany pulled me into another hug and I felt strange, like hugging a teacher wasn't something that was allowed. It felt good, though, like a warm blanket on a cold day, a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a winter's night.

I thought Brittany and I had a very unconventional relationship. Then again, Brittany was an unconventional person, taming you, warming me, relaxing Quinn. Brittany was different, too. Maybe we are all different.

"You are important," she whispered again, almost as if it wasn't for me, but I knew that it was.

I am important, important, important.

As I pulled away, I wished that I could be.

* * *

><p>"May I have your attention, passengers?" A voice buzzed over the intercom. "We will be arriving in Denver in fifteen minutes. Arrival time will be 9:27 and the current temperature in Denver is a frosty 33 degrees. As always, we'd like to thank you for flying United. Stay warm and we hope to see you again real soon."<p>

I poked my head into the aisle to see a flight attendant walking from seat to seat, collecting trash. Beside me, you breathed out heavily, your lips shut tightly and eyes closed. Brittany sat on your other side, staring out of the window like she had been for the past few hours. It had been a quiet flight.

When we finally touched down in Denver and walked swiftly through the airport, riding the train and collecting our bags, I thought you might have a seizure.

Your face was pale, waxy like a vanilla candle, and your hands kept shaking. Brittany left to call her mom, but I watched you.

This was the first time I had seen you scared, Tía, and it freaked me out. This wasn't supposed to be happening. You were the strong one and I was the one who was fragile, like fine china with a crack down the middle, ready to break at a moment's notice.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, worried that you would have some kind of meltdown in the middle of the airport.

"Nothing," you said, but I didn't believe you.

"You're freaking out."

"Yeah," you squeaked, and I realized for the first time that you needed me like I needed you. We needed each other. I grabbed your hand, holding it tightly in mine and squeezing so you would feel that I was there, so you would know that I could be there for you like you had always been there for me.

I wasn't sure if you were capable of doing anything then, let alone making it outside on your own to where Brittany's mom waited, so I held your hand tighter, hoping it would anchor you and make you stop shaking like a frightened Chihuahua.

We met Brittany's mom and she was nice, if not a little too enthusiastic. I started to feel you relax, but I remembered Brittany's dad, and her fears that he wouldn't accept you, and I worried.

I worried and I worried, and when we got there, you worried, so I pretended not to worry at all. It would be fine.

Mr. Pierce was not what I expected, although I hadn't really been expecting anything. I just realized I hadn't been expecting what he was until I saw him. He was tall, but that was about all he had in common with Brittany. His dark eyes reflected the hall light sharply and I wanted to hold your hand again, but you stuck it out and shook his, your hand disappearing inside his large palm. He spoke in a gruff voice and thought I was your daughter. I thought he must be shitting you because there was no way you were old enough to have a kid my age.

You put your arm around my shoulders and I wondered if it was for you or for me. Maybe we both needed it. Then Brittany came and rescued us and I was able to disappear upstairs. I crawled into bed, glad to be hidden in the dark from Mr. Pierce's black eyes.

* * *

><p>When I woke up the next morning, you were still sleeping, but that wasn't that much of a surprise. I slipped out of bed, tiptoeing out of the room so I wouldn't wake you up.<p>

I cautiously walked down the stairs and ventured down the hall when I heard quiet laughter. I followed it to the kitchen and saw Brittany and Mrs. Pierce fussing over the stove. Brittany looked up at me when I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down.

"Hey," she said.

"Good morning," I smiled lazily at her.

"Are you hungry, Cass?" Mrs. Pierce smiled a lot. That must be where Brittany gets it from.

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

She waved her hand at me. "No ma'ams. It makes me feel old." She laughed and set a plate of pancakes in front of me.

"Thank you… Mrs. Pierce?" I said, and she just smiled that crinkly smile of hers.

"So," Brittany said and handed me a glass of milk. "I got you something."

"Christmas is tomorrow."

"It is," she nodded. "But I'm talking about something you need for today."

I looked at her confused and she bustled out of the kitchen. I felt awkward for a moment, alone in the room with Mrs. Pierce. She didn't seem to notice the tension and just kept humming over the stove.

Brittany returned a second later, bag in her hand, the Hanson's logo sticking out brightly. She handed it to me and I looked at her, confused, before opening it.

"What's this for?" I pulled out a bottle of blue spray paint and I saw a few canvases clinking against more colors at the bottom of the bag.

Brittany smiled, her whole body vibrating in excitement. "I brought your scraper from home, it's in my suitcase. I was thinking you could paint."

My eyes shifted to the hallway, but it was still quiet. You were still asleep. "Did you tell her?" My insides flooded with worry and fear.

Brittany shook her head. "No, but Santana will approve of this, trust me. I'm not going to tell her, but she can know that you do it here, right?"

"I'm really confused," I said, unsure where this was going.

"Do you trust me?"

Brittany stared at me, her eyes genuinely curious. They were open and inviting, like Lake Michigan in the summer, waiting for someone to jump in and send ripples running over the surface.

"Yeah," I said after a beat. "Of course I do."

She smiled again, like she had achieved some big feat. Maybe she had. I don't know.

"A'ight, then, just go with the flow, watch the grass grow, take it all slow, that's all there is yo!"

I stared at her. "Did you just make that up?"

Brittany winked. "Guess you'll never know," she said, maintaining the same deep voice.

"Brittany, baby, I think it's too early for that." Mrs. Pierce shook her head in amusement and I let out a giggle.

"We should have a rap-off sometime," I told her.

She pointed at me. "Bring it on. I'll kick you're a-"

"Okay, Brittany, sit down. Eat some pancakes." Mrs. Pierce thrust a plate into her hands and ushered her into a chair.

"Sorry, Mom." Brittany's ears turned bright red and I smiled into my milk.

"Just keep it clean, baby, I'm still your mother." Mrs. Pierce set a plate of bacon in front of us at the table. "You better eat all of this, girls, the both of you are far too skinny. And where is that girlfriend of yours Brittany Sue? She needs to eat, too."

"She's still sleeping," I said.

"Well she can have something when she wakes up, then."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "If we don't get her soon, she'll sleep all day." I nodded and laughed again.

"Eat your pancakes and stop teasing." Mrs. Pierce smiled at me. "You too, Cass. This is going to be a very eventful Christmas for you."

I bit my lip, feeling like that might not be the best thing. Wishing everything would be fine, I grabbed my fork and dug into my pancakes.

* * *

><p>I had never expected for the clinking of silverware against plates to be an ominous sound, but sitting at dinner under the careful scrutiny of Mr. Pierce, I thought differently. I could feel a lump of apprehension forming in my chest, building like icy slush in my ribcage.<p>

I was exhausted, spent from the long day of painting on a street corner in the intense sun, but I felt alert. Something was going to happen, even if that something was nothing. Nothing was always something.

I sat there, silent, as Mr. Pierce asked about your job and I wondered if families really had dinner like that, all tense and stiff. I had nothing to compare it to. In Ohio, I would just eat whenever and whatever and since moving, you would often just make me something before you went to work or we would order out. This was much more formal and much, much more awkward. I don't think even my knife could cut the tension. Maybe a machete…

The conversation turned to me and my art, my family and my reasons for living with you. Mr. Pierce asked me about college, but I hadn't really thought about it. I told him I wanted to do something with my art and he told me art wasn't a proper field of study, a proper career.

I knew that. I knew that and still my chest felt cold and dry, freezing into an ice wall waiting to crack. I had been told that by so many people. It should've been familiar to me by then, I should have been ready for it.

I sat there, frozen with disappointment and dejection, and Mr. Pierce turned on Brittany. I could feel you getting angry beside me, heating up, your inner frustration bubbling up like a volcano, especially when Mr. Pierce made preposterous implications about my parents.

You are usually so appalled by the things I have to say, Tía. This time was different. You stared at me, willing me to say something, silently urging me to give this man a piece of my mind. But if you were a volcano, the explosion you were holding in had flowed over to me, red hot magma melting my wall of ice. I needed to be calm. Of all the times to say something inappropriate, this was not one of them.

What did his opinion matter anyway? He was nothing to me.

Mr. Pierce stormed out and you made an escape outside, needing to cool off. Your heat had surged to me, but apparently my frosty interior had not spread to you.

I put my fork down and watched you go, the front door barely shutting gently behind you. There was a moment when Brittany stared at the closed door before she put her head in her hands and exhaled loudly. She might have said something in that breath, but I didn't catch it. So I just watched her.

"I'm so sorry, Cass," she said after a minute. She didn't look at me.

"It's okay," I told her. It was, I could handle it. And it wasn't her fault and she shouldn't think that it was. It wasn't.

"I_ knew_ this would happen." She finally looked up and her cheeks were red and her eyes were brighter, too bright. I think if Brittany was an ocean she would have been a hurricane in the making at that moment.

"Britt, it's fine. It's not your fault."

Her hands clenched in and out on the table, pale skin contrasting brightly against the black tablecloth. I wished I could make her feel better, wished I could make her see it was fine.

"It's not fine. Santana is upset. And she should be." Brittany rubbed at her forehead, frustrated. "I hate this," she whispered. "How am I supposed to show her… how am I going to tell… ugh. He screwed everything up." It was as if she was talking to herself. Her voice lowered and her eyes grew distant. I hadn't seen Brittany cry, but she looked close. Her lips thinned so much they went white.

"I'm sure you could just talk to her…" I uncertainly suggested.

Brittan nodded, her frustration turning into determination. "I should go bring her back." She stood up and brought her plate into the kitchen.

My eyes widened and I quickly followed her. "Or you could stay here…"

She shook her head as she put the plates into the dishwasher. "I need to talk to her."

I could feel my insides squeezing tightly together, like my intestines and appendix were trying to push their way up to my chest. "Can I come?"

Brittany sighed and looked at me. "I think I need to talk to her alone, Cass."

"You can't just leave me here by myself," I hissed. I meant with _them_ and I think Brittany knew it. Her lips dipped at the corners in sympathy.

"I'll be right back," she said and left me standing in the kitchen. I heard her feet pounding up the stairs and groaned. I stood in the kitchen for a minute, but I felt really awkward so I went to where my backpack was sitting in the hall and got my sketchpad. I sat back down in the dining room and started melding greens and blues and reds together.

Brittany glided back into the room a few minutes later. Her cheeks were red again and she was sliding her long black jacket over her arms. "I told them not to talk to you unless they had something nice to say," she said.

I just stared at her, half appalled and half anxious. I didn't want her to leave me alone.

"You'll be okay," she breathed out and smiled slightly and I wished I would be. Okay, I mean. She came up to me and glanced over my shoulder at my drawing.

"It's not done yet." I reached my hand out to cover it, but stopped halfway, uncertain. She had already seen it.

"Okay." She was smiling still. "Cass, don't listen to my dad, okay? He's just… well I don't know the word for it, but just don't listen to him. Your art is great and it's important that you stick with it." She looked at me seriously. "You're important." She said those words again and I wondered how long it would be until I believed them. "I'll be back soon." I nodded and her hand came up to the back of my head, smoothing the hair there before she hitched her coat up higher and walked to the front door.

"You should tell her!" I called out and I heard her chuckle.

"Finish your drawing." The front door closed softly. I shook my head and picked up my purple pencil, twirling it in between my fingers before letting it strike the paper, determined and sure.

I don't know how long it had been since Brittany had left, but I finished the circles of fire I had been shading. I held the paper in front of me, admiring the shift from cool blues and purples to warm reds and oranges and I felt good about myself. Brittany was right. My art was important.

I thought about the picture of behind the bar I had painted for you for Christmas. I decided to give you this one, too.

Someone pulled out the chair next to me at the table and I looked over at Mrs. Pierce. She was staring at my drawing, an intrigued smile on her face.

"You're really good," she said after a moment and met my eyes. Hers were so much like Brittany's, blue and clear, a summer sky.

"Thank you." I smiled back at her. She wasn't as scary as Brittany's dad.

Her long fingers folded over themselves on the tablecloth. "I wanted to apologize for my husband's behavior. It takes him a long time to understand things that he doesn't necessarily agree with."

I didn't really know what to say, so I just nodded. "Okay."

"You seem like an extraordinary girl, Cass. Your aunt seems very proud of you."

"She does?" I asked, because I had heard you praise my art, but I never really thought about how you might be proud of me. Sometimes our relationship confuses me. At that point, we hadn't really known each other that long. Everything happened really quickly.

I think the best things sometimes happen quickly, though. Like rollercoasters. You spend so much time waiting and nothing exciting happens. Then all of a sudden you're on the ride and feeling that adrenaline rush and laughing happily and next thing you know, it's over and you're pulling back into the station and climbing out. It all just happens so fast.

I think it's understandable why some people are afraid of rollercoasters.

Mrs. Pierce smiled. "She seems to really care about you."

I nodded uncertainly. "I care about her," I said reluctantly. It felt weird to be talking about it.

"I can see that." Mrs. Pierce laughed quietly. "I can also see that Brittany cares about the two of you very much." She nodded absently at the table, right hand twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "Brittany is… different."

Mrs. Pierce looked up at me and I nervously met her eyes again. "She loves life in a way that most people will never be able to. She is a very open person, and believe me, I think it's beautiful. But I also know that makes her susceptible to a lot of hurt."

"Santana would _never_ hurt her," I said defensively.

Mrs. Pierce smiled sadly. "I believe it. I'm talking about her dad. He hasn't always been supportive of what she's wanted from life."

"Oh," I said, wondering what she was talking about.

"The point is, Brittany doesn't let that stop her. I was going to say… it would be smart if you would take a leaf out of her book." She smiled and pointed toward my drawing and I felt heat rush to my face as I held back a smile.

"Okay." I smiled and Mrs. Pierce stood up.

"I'm glad I got to know you, Cass."

"Me too," I said. I liked Mrs. Pierce.

"I'm sure this isn't the only time we'll meet. I think you'll be around for a long time."

I laughed and wondered if everyone could see how much you were in love with Brittany. "I think so, too."

* * *

><p>I think happiness is like building a sandcastle. It doesn't usually just appear on the beach out of nowhere, perfectly sculpted and with intricate details, ready to house little sand people. It's built up, bucket by bucket. If every grain of sand was a little bit of contentment, a small sliver of positivity and serenity, and you gathered up every bit of it on the beach, well, that would be a lot of happiness.<p>

But you can't do that.

Happiness comes in small doses. You can let it run through your fingers, capturing an experience, a moment, before it falls back to the beach, leaving you with rough hands and fleeting memories.

You can grab your bucket and a shovel and you can pack the happiness down until the bucket is overflowing, but eventually you must turn it upside down and let the packed sand sit in a sticky clump on the beach. You can do it over and over again, until you have a big castle of happiness, with a drawbridge and a moat to protect it and keep it safe.

That would be ideal, but unfortunately, walls and moats and piranhas and a drawbridge can't keep out high tide forever. Sooner than you'd like, the waves will always lap at your castle, wiping it away with salty sea foam, no matter how strong it is.

I think that's okay, though.

We shouldn't be happy all of the time. How good would happiness feel if we didn't have the sad and the angry to compare it to?

I think what matters is that even when the tide washes away your castle, you grab your bucket and shovel and start piling sand right back into it.

There are more grains of sand on a beach than I think anyone would like to count. There will always be more sand to let fall through your fingers, to crinkle between your toes.

Whether it's smaller or bigger, stronger or weaker, with one turret or ten, you will always, always, be able to build another sand castle.

* * *

><p>I had never been on a beach for Christmas, but that year, I think the both of us had built pretty big sand castles. Wouldn't you agree, Tía?<p>

We gave the money we earned the day before to the waitress at the diner we had gone to. I liked eating breakfast there; it was more like what I was used to when it came to holidays. Not that I didn't appreciate the way you celebrated, but I liked the familiarity of something so informal.

When Mrs. Pierce told you that giving the waitress such a big tip was Brittany's idea, I think you might have went into shock a little bit. I have never seen you stare at anyone like you had stared at Brittany just then. You stared at her like she created mountains and oceans, like she could walk on water. You said you don't know if you believe in God. Maybe you don't need to. Maybe you just believe in Brittany. I kind of like that idea better.

"I love you," you said and my fingers paused over my phone, halfway through a reply to John's _Merry Christmas_ text. I looked up and watched as Brittany's eyes widened and she smiled and shrugged like she just _knew_ you would say it eventually. I guess she probably did. I had told her often enough.

"I love you, too," she said and I wondered why I was special enough to witness this moment. It seemed so big and so little at the same time. Although, I think that fits your relationship with Brittany perfectly. You go together like peanut butter and chocolate. It's amazing and yet so natural that I can't help but wonder what it was like before you were with Brittany.

I wanted to smile for you, but I like to make fun of you even more. I knew you wouldn't mind. Your sand castle had a pretty big drawbridge and I think I was the moat more than I was the tide. I just helped you build it bigger instead of breaking it down.

I liked snow and I liked snow ball fights and snow men.

But at that moment, I think I liked sand a little bit more.

I was happy enough that I didn't feel like I really needed anything else that Christmas. You still got me a new sketchpad and a pretty necklace. Brittany got me a bracelet. I didn't want much else. I did have one wish though.

I wished every Christmas could be like that.


	29. Old Me, New Me

**A/N:** Hi, I apologize sooo much for the wait. I had finals and am currently in a relentless (and so far unsuccessful) job hunt. I will hopefully be updating more regularly now. On that note, are people still interested in this POV? It's not really even Brittana anymore. Just... sort of. Thoughts?  
>Thanks as always to my betas, wewillwalk and whedonist. And thanks to all still reading.<p>

Also, check out my other stories if you haven't already and if you want to. I post them here and also on my tumblr thatswherehopelies . tumblr . com

* * *

><p>People have always been my artistic downfall. I can never get them quite right.<p>

I can float over a landscape, capturing skylines, or meadows, or sunsets. I can do portraits of inanimate objects, playing with dark shadows or abstract spacing. I can look at photographs, my pencil tracing the lines onto a brand new page, adding my own signature twist to the moment.

People are different though.

I have tried so many times to transfer faces and arms, spines and toes, to a blank page, my pencil following my eyes as they rake over a person and try to replicate their beauty.

I've been told that my portraits are good, accurate representations of the people I am trying to carve into the canvas. No matter how many times I'm told this, though, I just can't help but disagree.

There's something missing.

I think an artist needs to understand someone to be able to draw them. They have to see past the curve of their nose and the definition in their shoulders. It's so much more than that.

After Christmas, I felt different. It wasn't anything big, not anything externally noticeable. It was just this tiny inexplicable shift inside me.

I sat down in my corner stool, watching you work and flit around behind the bar, and I noticed it. The shift. It was an understanding.

Understanding people comes not from the ability of others to open up to you. It comes from your ability to open up to others.

Suddenly, I could see it. It was a faint glow, a warmth of comprehension spreading to my fingers. They ached with the need to feel charcoal between them.

I was torn, Tía, between the urge to rifle through my backpack and find my supplies, and the want to keep watching you.

I reached for my bag, fumbling with the zipper. I kept my eyes focused on your back as you helped someone on the opposite side of the bar. My hands felt around blindly inside until my fingers were curling around my box of charcoals and my sketchpad.

Before I knew it I had unconsciously flipped to a clean page and already my hands were acting of their own accord. They mapped out the gentle slope of your jawline, the jutting of your hips.

I understood.

I caught the crinkle of happiness at the corner of your eyes, the stress in your wrists as you leaned on the bar to hear someone better. Your hands are so interesting. Your fingers are delicate and strong, but your knuckles are wrinkled from worrying them too much. I know it is worry about work or your past. Maybe it's worry about me.

(I like to think I'm not that stressful on you, but it's also kind of a relief to know that you care enough about me to worry.)

I felt myself inhaling sharply, then exhaling quietly. With every breath in, I found you, and with every breath out, I opened up more to this new way of seeing you.

I lingered on the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the dark strands twisting in the air as your graceful hands moved methodically over glasses and the soda gun. Your shoulder bones stuck out of the straps of your black tank top.

You leaned forward, shifting your weight to your tip toes as you reached up high to grab a bottle of grenadine from the top shelf. Your shirt rode up and I caught the bottom of the small tattoo on your lower back. I asked you about it once. You blushed and laughed, embarrassed, as you explained that you had gotten the tiny swallows flying skyward when you were seventeen and had yearned to get away from small town Ohio and the sense of claustrophobia you had felt there.

My fingers danced across the page for so long. One hour, two hours, I'm not even sure.

I was my very own Allegory of the Cave. Where once I had been in the dark, I had now stepped into the light, my eyes gradually adjusting to the brightness that was understanding you.

The longer I drew, the more I understood.

A drawing is simply lines and shading if you don't feel something when putting it to paper. It becomes art when you open yourself up to the emotions you feel when you're drawing it.

It was late when I finished. All of the customers had left the bar and you were stacking chairs and cleaning tables. I looked at what I had drawn and for the first time in so long, I was proud of something I had created. It didn't feel superficial or rushed, like it would have if I had drawn it in a moment when I was feeling the frantic need to find myself.

I carefully slid my sketchbook into my backpack and we went home. You had gone to bed, but in the quiet of the kitchen I took the book back out and flipped open to what I had drawn.

There was a shift in the air and I felt movement behind me.

"Hey," Brittany said quietly. I exhaled in surprise because I hadn't known she was there.

"Hi."

She moved closer and for once I didn't feel like I needed to hide my art. It was finished and it was exactly how I wanted it to be.

Brittany's lips twisted in thought and she brought her hand to the drawing, letting it hover right over the paper. I watched as her fingers glided through the air, running over the lines that made up the curve of your hip and lingering over the wisps of hair falling in your face as you leaned against the countertop.

"You drew this?" Her voice was soft and gentle, full of wonder and awe. It made heat rush to my ears. She made it sound like I was Da Vinci or Michelangelo or something.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly.

"This is… Cass. This is amazing." She looked at me then, her eyes excited and deep like thick droplets of blue paint. "Did you show Santana?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "No." I think I wanted that drawing just for me. It was okay that Brittany had seen it, but I didn't want to show you. Not because I was self-conscious of it – because I wasn't – but it felt personal. It was a picture of you, but it was also part of me. I don't know if that makes sense, but that's what it felt like. "Do you think you could… not tell Santana about it?"

Brittany smiled softly at me and nodded before running a hand over the back of my head. She does that a lot. Sometimes I feel like Brittany is my aunt more than you are, Tía. The way she looks at me, proud and gentle, feels so… maternal or something. I don't know.

I mean, you do that too sometimes. It's different, though. It feels like Brittany is always looking after me, but with you… it feels like you've got my back. It's just… different. Maybe it's because you're _more_ than just my aunt.

We bicker and annoy each other. Sometimes I embarrass you and sometimes you get so fiercely protective of me that it makes me feel younger than I'd like to admit.

At this point in time, maybe I was afraid to tell you things about my past. I was scared that you would judge me, nervous that you would be just like the rest of our shitty family. Now, though, I know I can tell you anything. You'll always be there for me with a quick joke to make my insecurities vanish or a tight hug that will have me melting into happiness.

You're my best friend, Tía.

One day, maybe I'll give you my drawing of you, but for now, I think I'll keep it to myself. I'll keep it as a reminder that when you change and open yourself up that, sometimes, with feelings… everything can be just a little bit better.

* * *

><p>Have you ever looked in the mirror and felt nothing?<p>

You didn't feel happy or sad or… _anything_? Like a painting that evokes no emotion. Average. Mediocre. Indifferent.

It was New Year's Eve and I had spent the last hour getting ready for my… ugh. My _date_. My hair was straightened, makeup dark around the eyes. This is how I'd dress to impress back in Ohio. Everything looked so familiar. My face, my outfit, everything.

I felt different, though. There was no feeling of excitement, no burst of self-confidence. I was hot-shit. Yet, I felt nothing.

"You look nice."

I exhaled and shrugged my shoulders. I didn't feel nice. I felt nothing.

"Where are you going?" You came up behind me, your face appearing above mine in the mirror.

"A party."

You quirked your eyebrow at my indifferent tone. "A party? With who?" I think you were surprised, Tía. I never hung out with anyone as far as you knew.

"Some people from school. It's at this girl Melanie's house."

"Hmmm."

I nodded and wondered what you saw in my reflection in the mirror. Could you see the maturity in my carefully made-up appearance? Or did you see the youth in my eyes? The fear of the old Cass shining through or the determination of the new Cass to keep it at bay?

You placed your hands on my shoulders and squeezed. "Well, be safe."

"Okay." My phone vibrated from where it sat on the vanity, lighting up with a text.

**Crater:**Here! :)

"Who's Crater?" Your hands fell away from my shoulders as I turned around and grabbed my jacket from where it was hanging over the back of my chair.

"Nobody really. I'm going with him to the party."

"Is it a date?"

"No!" You gave me an amused look and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "I mean, not really."

You smirked and I felt the heat spread up the back of my neck to my ears. "Not really? How can something _not really_ be a date?"

"Well, he thinks it's a date and I…" I shrugged. "I don't know?"

Your smirk turned into a full blown smile. "Right."

"It's not, Tía, God."

"Whatever you say, Cass."

"Stop it! I have to go."

I tried to leave, but you grabbed my arm. "Whoa, not so fast."

"What?" I whined, desperate to get out of there.

"When will you be home? Are you staying somewhere? Do you have your phone?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm coming back, but I don't know when. Sometime after midnight. And yes, I have my phone."

"Okay. I have to work really late tonight, so I'll be at the bar if you need me. Text me if you go anywhere else besides your friend's, okay?"

"Yes, Tía, God." I rolled my eyes again. "Can I go now?"

"Yes." You nodded and let go of my arm. "Please be safe."

"I will. Stop worrying." Then I was gone, out the door and down the hallway. When I stepped outside, I saw John leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," I said.

He stood up straight and smiled. "Hey. You look… different."

I froze. "I do?"

He nodded. "Well yeah. You still look really pretty, but I don't know… you don't really look like you."

I looked like the old me. He was right. I just didn't know how the _new_ me looked.

"Oh." I shifted awkwardly. "Well you look nice." He had on dark jeans and a button up with a black tie.

He shrugged indifferently. "How was your Christmas?"

"It was really good. How was yours?"

"It was alright. I got a new iPod." He ran a hand through his blonde hair. It looked like he had tried to style it but it had flopped back down to its usual unruliness. "Well," he said. "You ready?"

I nodded and he held out his hand. I hesitantly took it, my insides heating up despite the cold when he smiled his crinkly smile. Our fingers interlaced together and I tried not to focus on the warmth of my palm in his, hoping that it wouldn't be sweaty and embarrassing.

We walked a few blocks, making small talk about our holiday and how we didn't want to go back to school. When we finally got to Mel's I felt my jaw drop.

"Yeah," John said with a laugh as we looked into the fancy lobby of her building. The doorman was holding open the door for us. "She owns the whole top floor. Her dad does music videos or something."

I had never seen a place so nice. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and the floors were polished to a bright sheen. I could see my reflection in the marble tiles, black hair curtaining my cheeks.

"Come on." John tugged my hand to the elevator where he pressed the up button. When the doors slid open, we stepped inside and John pressed the button for pent house. "Normally it won't let you do that," he said as we went up. "You have to have a key to do it usually because the elevator goes right into her place, but she must have manually turned that off or something for the party."

The doors opened and we stepped into a room full of kids laughing and dancing to a hard beat, bass shaking the room. The sound system was pretty loud. "Holy shit," I half-yelled.

"I know, it's insane!" John smiled at me and led me in and out of people until we got to the kitchen area. The music was a little quieter in there.

"Okay, I'm thinking body shots!" I saw Mel standing on a counter and yelling down at the people below her. "What do you think, Tay?"

Someone must have answered because there was a loud cheer and Mel held up a bottle of Jose Cuervo.

"Guess we made it just in time for body shots," John laughed. We walked to the counter just as Mel jumped down. She saw us and grinned.

"Crater! You made it! About fucking time man!" She smiled at me. "What up, Cass?"

"Cool place," I told her. She just shrugged. A tall girl with long blonde hair came up beside Mel and draped her arm over her shoulder.

"Babe, Nick wants to do shots." She glanced over at us. "Crater, good to see you again." She pointed at me. "But I haven't met you before. Mel, who's this cutie?"

My gaze shifted to John. He rolled his eyes.

"This is Cass," Mel said to the girl. "Cass, this is my girlfriend Taylor."

The girl eyed mine and John's clasped hands. "Nice snag, Crater-nator. She looks totally fuckable."

John turned bright red and I flickered my gaze between Taylor and Mel. Mel rolled her eyes, but smiled. "You'll have to excuse her. She's a flirt on good days, never mind when she's drunk."

Taylor fingered a strand of long blonde hair. "I'm not flirting babe, I'm just saying she looks delicious. And I'm not drunk."

"Yeah, okay." Mel held up the bottle of tequila. "We were just about to do body shots. You guys want in?"

John looked at me and I shrugged. "Yeah, count us in," John said.

I did three body shots. One was off of Taylor which was kind of awkward because she kept winking seductively at me. She was pretty funny, though. I did another off of some random guy I'd never met before. Then I did one off of John. He kept giggling and he squirmed when I ran my tongue over his stomach. I like to consider that a successful body shot for everyone involved.

John had to go to the bathroom after that so I wandered through Mel's place. There were a lot of pictures of her and her dad on the walls. Don't get me wrong, I know that things aren't always what they seem and that appearances leave a lot up to assumption, but it looked like they had a pretty good relationship to me. Better than what I had with my dad, at least.

I felt this pang in my chest as I looked at this one picture of Mel and her dad smiling in front of a Christmas tree.

I love you, Tía, and I love the relationship we have together. But God, it's just not the same, you know? Why can't our family just be fucking normal?

Like, if your mom dies from cancer, why the fuck does your dad have to be shitty too? Not for the first time, I thought about how unfair everything about my life was.

"Hey, there you are." I spun around to see John walking toward me. "It's almost midnight. You ready?"

I looked at the picture one more time and then turned back to him. "Yeah, totally."

We walked back into the kitchen where Mel handed us each a shot. I quickly downed mine, grimacing as it hit my throat.

"Mel, two minutes!" Taylor popped her head into the kitchen. "Come watch!"

Someone turned the music off and then the sound of Ryan Seacrest talking filled the stereo. I led John into the other room where Times Square was projected on Mel's giant flat screen TV. Fuck, these people had a lot of money.

"One minute!" Someone yelled out and then the countdown started. Everyone was scrambling around, trying to find their significant other or even a friend. I started to panic as I realized John was next to me. Would he expect me to kiss him?

Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with that. It was just one kiss, right? But this was John and I was me and I wasn't in Ohio anymore. I was working on a new me. I wasn't here for boys.

"Ten, nine, eight…"

I felt my breathing pick up as I mentally battled with myself.

"Seven, six, five…"

It was one kiss. I wasn't here for boys. Old me. New me.

"Four, three, two…"

Fucking Jesus Christ. I looked over at John. He was wearing a goofy smile and chanting alongside everyone else.

"One! Happy New Year!"

Someone screamed and must have blown one of those horns and confetti was going everywhere. John looked at me, lips curled in a half smile, and started to lean in.

It was just one kiss.

I wasn't here for boys.

"I have to pee!"

It was the first thing that came to mind and John looked at me confused, but I ignored him and shot out of the room. I skirted past Mel and Taylor who were making out against a wall and darted into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.

The room felt stifling even though it must've been below freezing outside. I took in a deep breath, my fingers clenching the granite countertop in front of me. My eyes fell on a bottle of vodka and I grabbed it with shaky hands. I took a huge gulp and then set it back down. No, I wouldn't do that. I wasn't that person anymore. I could handle it.

Someone stumbled up behind me and I turned to see Mel laughing hysterically as she called something over her shoulder before turning to look at me.

"Cass! Heyyyy." She grabbed the bottle of vodka in front of me. "Let's do a shot!" She opened the bottle and took a swig before handing it to me.

"Ummm."

"Come on, I did it! We have to be evenskis!"

I sighed and took another sip. What the hell. She cheered and I started to feel light headed.

"Hey," she said. "Where's Darth Crater?" My eyebrows rose at the nickname.

"Out there still, I think."

She nodded. "So was he good?"

I looked at her, confused. "Good at what?"

She laughed, all high-pitched and exaggerated. "At kissing."

"We didn't kiss," I told her.

"What!" Mel threw her hands in the air. "Well why the fuck not! You came here together, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"And you like him, right?"

I shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Hold the fucking phone for one second. You like him. You came here together. But you didn't kiss." I stared at her. "Are you leading him on?"

"No." Yes.

"Yes you are, Cass."

"No, I'm not." Yes I was.

She pursed her lips. Gone was the giggly Mel from before, replaced by a coherent and serious Mel. "Okay, look. I'm not one to tell anyone how to treat anybody. Especially Crater. That would be hypocritical of me, and it's not my place."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off. "It is my place, however, as his friend, to tell you to back the fuck off if you're going to treat him like shit."

"I'm not – "

"Yes. You are." She put her hands on her hips. "I chose a girl over him and yeah, we're friends now, but I hurt him. It took us a long time to get our friendship back. He's a great guy, Cass."

"I know," I said. I hadn't been expecting a lecture. Everything was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges.

"We're friends, right?" I nodded. "Awesome, because I like you. But if you hurt him…" She trailed off and stared at me with her sharp green eyes.

"I'm trying not to." I was trying not to. That's why I was in the kitchen and not out there.

Mel clenched her jaw. "I know that you slept with Greg Morrison."

"I – what?"

"You fucked Greg Morrison. "

"How did you know that?" My voice was coming out too slow. My brain wasn't going fast enough.

Mel didn't answer me. She was staring over my shoulder with a pained expression on her face. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach plummet.

John stared at me and I stared back.

"Is it true?"

"John – "

He shook his head frantically. "She's drunk, Cass right? She doesn't know what the she's talking about."

"John, I…"

He looked at me pleadingly, blue eyes boring into mine with a strange intensity I didn't associate with him. "Tell me, Cass. Is it true?"

It felt like everything inside of me was squeezing, my inner organs suffocating like a constrictor was wrapping around them and trapping them in a vice-like grip.

I nodded.

John closed his eyes briefly. Then he spun on his heel and walked out of the room. I chased after him, but I couldn't find him among all of the people dancing and making out in celebration of the New Year.

I twisted around violently, searching everywhere. Everything was a blur. It was too hot in there.

I called the elevator, jiggling impatiently until the doors opened and I stepped inside. When I stepped outside into the cold New York air, I expected to feel better, but I didn't. Everything was still too hot.

I didn't know what to do. I had to do something.

"_I have to work really late tonight, so I'll be at the bar if you need me."_

Yes. I could go to the bar. You would be there. I could ask you for help. I could be with people who didn't expect anything of me. I could…

Fuck, I was drunk.

I started walking in the direction I thought the bar was. I had walked three blocks before I realized I was going the wrong way. The streets were too full of people. It was too hot.

I hailed a cab, stumbling a bit as I wormed my way into the backseat. I told the driver where to go and leaned my head against the window.

When I paid and got out of the cab, I had never been so relieved to see the bar. I had never been so relieved to see you.

I don't think you felt the same.

You told me to go sit by Brittany. I would do that. Brittany didn't expect anything of me either.

I felt someone grab my arm. It was Quinn.

"Cass, what are you doing here?"

"Hi, Quinn!" I smiled at her. Quinn wouldn't expect things of me. Quinn was my friend.

She tilted her head to the side. "Are you drunk?"

"Where's Britt? Tía told me to sit by Britt."

"Who? Oh. Santana. Right." Quinn sounded weird, like her voice was travelling through thick syrup before reaching my ears. She led me closer to the bar and I saw Britt talking to Puck. They looked at me when Quinn planted me in front of where they were sitting.

"Oh, God. Cass, are you drunk?" Brittany grabbed my face in her hands immediately.

I shook my head and stepped back. "No, Britt, I'm fine. Tía told me to come see you."

"She's drunk, B." I think Quinn said that.

"I'm fine!"

Someone squeezed in next to me. It was a guy with shaggy brown hair. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," I said back. He smirked at me before looking over at Britt.

"Can I buy you a drink, Santana's Blonde Friend?"

Brittany smiled politely. "No thanks."

The guy leaned against the bar. I leaned against Britt, my arm on top of the sticky countertop. Everything felt a little wobbly.

"You sure? Santana's hot and all, but I think you're looking for something else."

I looked at the guy. Did he suggest what I thought he suggested?

"Actually, I'm good, thank you. I'm not looking for anything." That was Britt again.

"Are you sure?" The guy. "I mean I know what you see in her, but I could help you see better. I could help you see… _straight_."

My arm slipped where it was on top of the bar. It hit a glass and it fell to the floor, shattering loudly. It was so hot and then I had felt even hotter.

"Back the fuck off, dude. She said no." I glared at him. Britt tensed behind me.

He nodded his chin at me. "You getting it on with them, too? Looking for something to beef it up?"

"Fuck you, douche bag!" I don't know what I was thinking, but it was so hot and I was so angry. I lunged for the guy. He couldn't say shit like that. Not to Britt. She didn't expect anything out of anyone. She didn't deserve it.

"Cass, no!" I feel arms grab my waist, but I kept swinging. Fucking asshole.

"What the fuck, Cass?" It was you, but you had come out of nowhere.

"He was saying stuff about Britt!" I tried to hit the guy because he was still smirking like the whole thing was a big joke.

"Cass, stop." I realized it was Puck who was holding my waist.

"Chill out, babe. Didn't mean to upset you." The guy put his hands in his pockets and I glared at him. My face felt hot with anger. Everything was so hot. "If you want, I can take you back to my place and make it up to you."

"Fuck you," I shot back. Like hell I'd go anywhere with him.

"Oh, feisty. I bet you're an animal in bed, aren't you, hot stuff?"

Suddenly, the guy howled in pain. You had launched forward and knocked him in the ear. There was a scrabble as you tried to reach him with the bar in your way and Finn tried to stop you. Puck shoved me behind him and Britt and Quinn grabbed my arms as I tried to help you.

Puck grabbed the guy and started growling out something at him and I suddenly felt exhausted. I slumped into Britt.

"I'll take her home."

Everything shifted and then Brittany was helping me out of the door and down the street. As we walked up the stairs to the apartment, she rubbed my arm reassuringly. "Do you have your key?" I nodded and pulled it out my jacket pocket. She grabbed it from me and opened the door.

Once we were inside, I went to sit on the couch, but Brittany grabbed my arm. "Cass, stop." I looked at her and she put her hand on my cheek. "You feel really hot. Let's go lay down, okay?"

I nodded again and let her take me down the hall to my bedroom. I sat down on the bed and then everything started to catch up with me. What the fuck had I done? A strangled cough forced its way out of my throat, like my body was trying to get rid of the part of me that had hurt the people I love.

God I had hurt so many people.

"Cass?" Brittany sat down on the bed next to me and everything felt hot. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. "What's wrong?"

I started sobbing uncontrollably. What had I done? I had hurt John Crater, Nicest Boy In The World. He was just another name to add to the list. Tommy, my dad, Abuela, you. Me.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

I coughed again and Brittany put her arm around my shoulder. I leaned into her. She let me sob for a long time. I kept trying to breathe properly, but then I would think of another thing I had done to hurt somebody, another thing I had screwed up, and I would start crying again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Brittany asked eventually.

"No," I choked out. "It's just so hard, Britt." I thought about how she was doing this for me and how if our family was normal I wouldn't have even met her and how I screwed everything up and how I missed my dad. "I miss my family and I've made so many mistakes. Things I can't take back." Stupid pregnancy. God I was so stupid.

"It's okay," Brittany murmurs into the side of my head.

It wasn't okay. I knew you would be so mad at me. I ruined your night. "Santana is like, amazing, you know? And I love her so much. And I love you so much and that guy was saying shit about you and I had to get him, you know? Now she's going to be so pissed at me. I didn't mean for this to happen, I promise."

"I know, Cass, it's okay."

It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. It wasn't okay that I had hurt so many people and it wasn't okay that some douche bag had tried to hurt Brittany. "He just… he said you were _sexy_, Britt! And that he could help you see _straight_. He's a fucking jerk."

The door opened and then I saw you, Tía, and I started crying more.

Brittany went to talk to you in the hall and everything still felt so hot and it felt like something was trying to get out of me. Emotion and hurt and pain and shit… I didn't feel good. Suddenly you had come back and then you were grabbing my hand and leading me to the bathroom and then I was throwing up into the toilet.

When I was done being sick, you turned on the shower. "What are you doing?" I hoped I wouldn't be sick again.

"Helping you get clean," you said. Your lips thinned. "Take your clothes off."

I wasn't sure I was done throwing up so I kept my mouth firmly shut and did as you said. You helped me out of my pants and then put me in the bath. The water felt nice on my hot skin. I started shivering as your fingers combed through my hair, but it felt good.

I managed to stop crying and you helped me out of the tub, making sure I was okay. I felt guilty at the concerned look you were giving me. I had ruined your night by making it all about me and my problems.

I didn't feel like I was going to be sick anymore. You gave me my pajamas and tucked me into bed. I felt so little and it reminded me of when I was a kid and my mom was still around.

"I'm sorry," I tried to tell you. You gave me this look that broke my heart. Then you kissed my forehead and said goodnight.

I didn't sleep very well. All I could think about was the shitty things I had done… Tommy and the baby… had I done the right thing? I thought about you and Brittany and why you loved me enough to take care of me when I didn't deserve it.

I drifted in and out of sleep until my room started to turn that light gray color that happens when it's almost morning and the sun is trying its hardest to rise above the skyscrapers and peek through the clouds.

I heard a noise in the kitchen and sat up, but I was cold in the morning air. My hair felt like it was suffocating me from drying too thick and wavy overnight and I pulled it up into a ponytail.

I opened my door quietly and shuffled down the hall, shivering at the bite of the cold that stained the floor and seeped into my limbs and toes. I looked in the kitchen and saw the coffee pot on, but nobody was there. I furrowed my eyebrows and quietly peered into your room, squinting into the half-darkness. I only saw Brittany in the bed and turned back around to look for you. The window to the fire escape was open so I guessed you were outside.

I thought about going back to bed, but I wanted to explain to you. I wanted to tell you how I was trying. I was trying to be the new, better me. The old me just kept chasing after the new me though. I wanted to say sorry, and that I was trying.

I saw your NYU hoodie on the floor and grabbed it, pulling it over my head. It smelled like freshly done laundry and your shampoo, the one in the purple bottle that was always open in the shower. I reveled in the softness and warmth of the cotton as it fit snugly over my body. Then I saw a pair of Brittany's sweatpants on the floor and pulled those over my shorts.

The coffee pot beeped and I went into the kitchen and got down a mug before filling it with coffee. I took a small sip and headed outside.

You were sitting on an overturned trash can, cigarette dangling between your lips, and staring out at the building next to ours. I hadn't known until then that you smoked, Tía. You said you only smoked when you were stressed and I realized I was probably the one causing you stress. My heart clenched and I felt my eyes start to water again. God, I fucking hate crying.

You asked if I wanted to talk about it and I tried to think of an explanation, but all I could say was sorry and that I promised that I wouldn't do it again. I really hoped I could keep that promise.

I tried to put it into words, but it came out as, "I don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I'm so lost."

You sighed and looked at me. "I guess that makes two of us."

"No. You always know what to do." I felt more tears fall down my cheeks and I tried to wipe them away. You did always know what to do. In any case, you knew what to do much more often than I did.

"I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time actually. I thought that I used to know. I was like a zombie, working and fucking my life away." I smiled a little at that. Your one night stands had become a joke now. You had Brittany and there would be no more hook ups. "I was like, on this fucking cloud. Except I didn't feel high or on top of the world or anything like that. It just felt like I was looking down and watching someone else live my life for me."

Your voice was so far away, Tía, like you could see the view from that cloud, way up in the sky.

"I thought that I could work and then drink and then fuck to get through the shitty routine that my life had become. I was stupid. I was still that young kid from Ohio who'd been kicked out. I was young and felt unloved and I didn't have a dream or anything to do with my life. And I guess I never really outgrew that depressing person I was. I just stayed on that fucking cloud, while everyone else walked on and lived their life, and I was just floating in place."

I had never felt like that, I guess. It mostly felt like I was a tornado, spinning around and causing destruction as I picked up speed and grew into a bigger and bigger problem.

"Do you still feel like that?" I looked out at the red-brick building across from us and kicked a pebble out of the fire escape. It skittered into the alley between the buildings.

"Sometimes," you said. "But it's different now."

"Different how?"

"I'm not on that cloud anymore, but I still feel lost sometimes. Like I'm working at a stupid bar and will always be stuck there." You shrugged. "Mostly I feel lost when you freak me out like that. I get worried about you. I know you're a teenager and that you're going to have sex and get drunk and party and do these things. I _know_. But I just want you to be safe."

It's hard to miss my family when I have you, Tía. I still do though, sometimes. I wished that the way you cared about me could be enough. I wished that this new me could let go of the old me and just accept that you would always care about me more than my dad ever would.

I've accepted this now, but it took a long time to get there. It still doesn't seem real sometimes.

"I feel lost because I don't know what to do with you sometimes. It's like… I was on that cloud you know? And I felt really lost and shitty. But then one day, here you were in my apartment and suddenly I was responsible for someone and I crashed back down to reality."

I breathed in deeply and thought about the day I had met you. It seemed so long ago, even though it really wasn't.

"And then Britt came into my life and it was like my eyes were opened. I was shown that working and drinking and fucking doesn't make me who I am. It's the choices I make and the way I experience life and those choices that make me the person I am. I was on a fucking stupid cloud, getting by in life. Then the two of you came, and you brought me back. Now, I see that I have other reasons to feel lost. Real reasons. Like trying to help you not make dumb decisions and get in trouble and push you to fulfill your own dreams. And not screwing things up with Britt because she's like, the best person I know and it's no wonder my life was so shitty before, because she wasn't in it. You know?"

I thought about it. "That's a lot to process," I said eventually.

You shot me a small smile. "I'm complicated. Get over it."

I wanted to laugh, but I still felt bad about worrying you. "I don't mean to make you worried." I wanted you to know that I didn't intend to be a problem. I just was one. It was who I was. I couldn't stop it.

"I know. Just… That person, the one who worries me sometimes, it's not _you_. You're not like that Cass." You sighed and I realized that was it. The root of all the problems.

Old me versus new me.

"You don't know me," I said. It was true. You knew part of me, but there was still so much you didn't know. We had gotten so close so fast, but time does matter. You hadn't had time to get to know the old me. "I'm two different people."

"What do you mean?"

"There's New York me, who goes to class, even stupid gym with Britt. This me stays home on weekends and watches Jersey Shore with you and goes to the bar and sits in the corner and does homework with Quinn." I shrugged, trying to convey the offhandedness of this new me. It wasn't the whole picture. The part of me you knew was an abstract painting that wasn't finished. You could see some of it and think it was complete because it was so fucking weird, but it wasn't really even close to being complete at all.

I tried to explain the old me. "Then there's the me you don't know. The me from Ohio, who goes out and drinks enough to rival her stupid alcoholic father. That me sleeps around and ditches class to smoke pot behind the bleachers. That me draws on napkins and doodles in notebooks all the time, but still gets Ds in art. Ohio Cass follows me to New York and takes over my body sometimes. And it's like no matter how hard I try to run from Ohio me, she always catches up when things start to seem okay again."

"Maybe you should just let her catch up and just accept that she is part of who you were, but you can be a different person now if you want to," you said. Your dark eyes look into me and I wondered if you knew I was hiding something. I was hiding one of the biggest parts of me.

"Do you think it's that easy? To just accept it and change who you are?" It wasn't that easy. How could it be? You don't just get an abortion and move on like everything's fine and dandy. As much as you want to, you just can't. And why should you? You made the mistake and mistakes deserve to be punished. "You ever experience something that you know you'll never forget and the hurt from it will never go away?" I asked eventually.

"Yeah," you said with a shrug. I wondered how you could be so nonchalant. I wanted that, the indifference. I yearned for it with everything I had and more.

"How do you move past something like that?"

You pursed your lips for a moment. "You don't." I felt my heart drop in disappointment. "You just accept that it happened, and eventually time helps you understand that it might always hurt a little, but that you'll feel okay in the end. But if you don't accept it, it will just keep festering and never start to heal."

I sighed out in frustration.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I didn't. How could I tell you? You wouldn't understand. I would just hurt more people. I needed to deal with it myself.

"I think I might try to get some sleep actually." I moved to go inside, but stuck my head back out of the window. "You should come in. It's really cold out here."

You nodded and said you'd be in soon. I went back to bed, my body curled under the sheets and cuddled up in your hoodie. I thought about our conversation.

New me wanted to take your advice, to accept everything and just let go. I had a good life in New York. I had people who cared about me. I had motivation. I was doing well in school.

But new me was trying to be less selfish. Would a truly selfless person burden others with their problems and pain? Would a truly selfless person be able to just _get over it_?

I went back and forth as I tried to sink into sleep.

New me. Old me.

I wouldn't realize until many months later, but not everything is black and white. There are shadows and lines, colors and in-betweens.

It didn't have to be old me and new me.

I could merge my two selves into a me that had the best of both parts. There was a middle ground.

I just needed to find it.


	30. Apologies

It seems to be a sorry cliché of life that we shouldn't take things for granted. People come and go, feelings change, situations evolve.

They say when you have something good you should cherish it because that something good could vanish in the blink of an eye.

All beautiful sunsets eventually fade to night.

For just once in my life, I want to be able to take something for granted. Just once, I want things to be easy enough that I won't have to think about how great everything is. I don't want to acknowledge how it could all just disappear, quick as a flash of lightning.

Most people don't realize what they have until it's gone. Most people are idiotic fucks. Not me. My whole life, I've been so sure that when things finally get good, they'll be yanked out from underneath me. It's not like I have a lot of experience with things being any different than that.

I'll admit, Tía, that New Year's wasn't my finest of moments. Strange as it may seem, though, I think it brought us closer. So, sure, I messed up, but it didn't matter. I was happy enough. Until recently, 'happy enough' has been more than enough.

I didn't take it for granted, though. In my life, there was no sense of security that things have finally settled down.

And I was right.

It could have been straight out of a movie, I swear. There would have been happy music playing, something soft and instrumental. The scene would've been bathed in warm and gentle lighting. We were having a _moment_. Brittany had just moved in and it seemed like… I don't know, like we were a family or something.

Then there was a knock on the door and like I said – all beautiful sunsets eventually fade to night.

I can just imagine it playing out to an audience. The music stops, building up the anticipation. Lighting dims. Cameras zoom in on the door until it opens, revealing the plot twist that has the protagonist (ahem, _me_) faltering in their steps. Everything changes.

And everything did change.

It was a blast from the past, a person that we had all thought we had left behind (well, except Brittany, who was most likely just really confused).

Abuela stormed into our apartment, demanding I return home to Ohio with her. She didn't get it, though. Ohio wasn't my home anymore. My home was here in New York. It was with you.

I froze, unsure of what to do. It felt good to have you sticking up for me, like you were fighting for the little family we had formed. I could see, then, why some of your friends were always so amazed that you were so warm around me and Brittany.

You can be a bitch when you want to be, Tía.

(Once, Quinn told me that I probably get that from you.)

After Abuela left, everything felt like I was living underwater. The next few weeks felt muted, like I was drifting, unresponsive to everything, the tides pulling me through day after day. Yet, everything inside my head was excessively present. I was stuck there, like I had swallowed myself whole and my body's lack of sensitivity to the outside world had transferred to the inside of my mind.

I don't even remember much of those weeks, except I kept asking myself questions. What would happen if I had to go back to Ohio? Would everything come rushing back? Would all the transformations I'd been making on myself disappear? I thought I had been making progress.

It felt like I couldn't breathe properly. I was settling into myself, deeper and deeper. I was letting myself sink, like stone red bricks had been tied to my limbs. I was splatters of paint too heavy and clumsy, a brush too thick for delicacy.

I couldn't concentrate on anything, including my newly assigned art project. I felt like I was trapped inside myself and was unwilling to escape the claustrophobia of my own mind.

I knew you were worried about me. Hushed conversations between you and Brittany somehow filtered under the crack of my sealed bedroom door.

"She's not hungry again."

"Again?"

"She said she's not feeling well."

"Maybe she's coming down with something."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Long pauses interrupted the awkward and one sided conversations you would have with me, which went something like this:

You: How was school today?

Me: Fine.

You: Just fine?

Me: *shrug*

You: Are you eating enough? Did you have lunch? When was the last time you washed that sweatshirt, Cass? It has a stain on it. Cass? Are you listening to me?

Me: I'm going to bed.

And so on.

I think you were trying to figure me out. I was so worried you would.

(Silence can be so loud.)

Maybe you thought I was just worried I would have to go back to Ohio. Of course I was worried about that. But I was worried about other things, too.

Why did Abuela want me back now? After she basically threw me out of her house because of the abortion? I was so confused.

I know I'm not perfect. I make mistakes just like everybody else. But at the time, when I was deciding whether to keep the baby or not, I thought I was doing the right thing for me. So many people in our family had children when they were too young. I just couldn't be like them, Tía. I'm not mature enough to raise a kid. And growing up in our family? That's not a healthy place to raise anybody.

I was young, okay? I'm still young. I wasn't equipped to make the decisions I had to make. I don't even know if I made the right one. All I know is that it's in the past and I can't change it. I don't even know if I would change it if I was given the choice.

When a piece of my old life and the choices I made forced their way through the door to our apartment, all the doubts and insecurities I had about that time in my life came rushing back.

I didn't mean to get so reclusive or to hide in my bedroom or to worry you.

I just didn't know how to handle it.

I'm so sorry.

* * *

><p>It rained and rained.<p>

Sometimes it felt like I was raining. Or dripping. My life was a canvas and I was dripping down it and pooling at the bottom in a thick, messy puddle. Like those leaky faucets that people can't bother to fix. Drip, drip, drip.

My art teacher assigned us a new art project that was worth fifty percent of our semester grade. I couldn't think of any ideas. We were supposed to compare and contrast something and all I could think of was really superficial things to paint, like landscapes or different climates.

I just felt empty.

Maybe everything had dripped out of me.

Brittany became extra cautious around me. She didn't want to pry into my life, but she watched me with careful eyes and rapt attention. She was everywhere – at school, at home.

It was a breath of fresh air when she was offered the opportunity to choreograph her show on Broadway. I was granted a small escape after school to go wherever I wanted and do whatever I pleased.

I started spending more time spray painting. It was the only time I felt like I wasn't empty, like I wasn't dripping.

It was the only time I didn't feel like I had to apologize for something.

* * *

><p>"Are you okay?"<p>

"Fine."

"Look, I'm not mad about what happened at Mel's party. I overreacted. You can do whatever you want."

"I know."

Pause.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>I remember the day the letter arrived with a strange clarity I can't associate with those short months.<p>

I had come home straight after school. It was one of the few days I hadn't been painting on the streets.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by magazines and bills. The mail. Your hair was perfectly straight and flowing. You had on comfortable-looking jeans and a white blouse.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi."

You looked up at me and smiled slightly. It was a weird smile. Not a real smile.

"What's… up?" I wasn't sure if something was wrong. Something looked wrong. You were just sitting there.

You pointed to a piece of paper on the table.

I reached out and grabbed it, smoothing it between my fingers. It was rough and crisp. It looked official. I had to read it three times before I really realized what it was: a summons to court. It would determine if I could still live in New York or if I would have to go back to Ohio.

Everything drained out of me, like water evaporating and paint drying.

If I wasn't empty before that, I sure was then.

* * *

><p>I think we're all avoiding something.<p>

Whether we're running from it or hiding from it or ignoring it, we all have that something we wish would just leave us alone.

We were all dealing with the upcoming situation differently. I was probably hiding from it, maybe running from it.

You were ignoring it.

I don't know why we didn't talk about it, but we kept pretending like everything was fine.

It wasn't fine.

On the outside it looked like you were handling the situation. I knew you had talked to your lawyer. The date had been scheduled.

I didn't know what you were feeling on the inside, Tía.

All I knew was on the inside… I felt nothing.

* * *

><p>John was desperately trying to rectify our friendship or budding relationship or whatever it was we had.<p>

"We should go to the movies this weekend or something," he would suggest.

"I can't this weekend," I'd respond with a half-hearted, half-sympathetic smile.

"Okay," he'd say with half-disguised disappointment.

* * *

><p>Why did I feel nothing?<p>

I felt nothing for the situation. I felt nothing for the boy I had been starting to like. I felt emotionless. God, what was wrong with me?

I'd look into the mirror and I even _looked_ empty. My eyes looked hollow and sunken like I hadn't gotten enough sleep. My skin looked yellow.

Yellow.

Yellow like stale oranges. Yellow like dried up old newspapers forgotten in a back alleyway. Yellow like the dying leaves of fall.

Everything was yellow, and I was yellow, and I felt nothing.

* * *

><p>I was becoming increasingly frustrated with my art project. I would go to class and just… <em>sit there<em>.

I couldn't think of one fucking thing to do it on.

My teacher, Mrs. Baker, would cast disapproving looks my way the whole time.

"Cass, you need to be working."

"I'm _trying_, Mrs. B."

I couldn't take it anymore. I was tired of sitting there being scrutinized for something I couldn't help.

Brittany has this annoying habit of turning up at the worst possible times.

"Cass?"

You'd think a girl could get some peace sitting in a secluded stairwell, but apparently not.

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?" Brittany's face appeared in front of mine.

"I'm just… nothing."

Brittany stared at me, eyes gentle and waiting. "Just… nothing?" I shrugged. "Don't you have class right now?"

I nodded. "Art."

Brittany pursed her lips before easing down on the steps next to me. I leaned my head against the wall, suddenly tired. I felt really exhausted all the time.

"You seem… different lately," Brittany said.

I tensed. "No I don't."

Brittany tilted her head to the side. "It's okay if something is bothering you, you know."

"It's not."

Ignoring my denial, Brittany leaned closer. "We can talk about it if you want."

I eyed her warily. Should I tell her? Brittany wouldn't judge me. She would tell you though and I couldn't have you worrying about my troubled past on top of everything else.

Now that I look back on it, I probably should've told someone. Keeping my secrets and doubts inside of me was like building a musty and dark trench to fight an unending war against myself. So much hurt and struggle… all of it pointless.

"There's nothing to talk about."

Brittany's lips thinned. "You're skipping art, you're just sitting here. Cass, I know I'm not the smartest person around here, but you're not fooling anybody. We live together. I know you."

"I'm fine, Britt." Even my voice sounded dry and dull.

"You don't sound fine." Her voice lowered with worry. I felt a pang of guilt because now Brittany was worried about me too. "You can tell me anything, Cass."

I sighed at the sincerity in Brittany's voice. "I know I can."

"So let's talk."

I struggled. Tell her, but no. Hold on, let go. Let go, let go, pounded inside me, over and over to the beat of my heart.

I can't.

Did I say that out loud?

"Why not?"

I must have. Brittany sounded sad.

I sighed again. "I just can't, Britt."

Brittany closed her eyes and nodded. She stood up. "Well, whenever you _can_, I'm here for you." She looked at me for a long moment again. I thought she might tell me to go to class, but she didn't. She just looked and then she turned to leave.

"Wait!"

She looked at me again, hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Can you please not tell Santana about this?"

I held my breath as her face fell. I could handle this disappointment. What I couldn't handle was her face filled with disappointment for a different reason. I could trust Brittany. She would keep this to herself like she had so many other times I had asked her to. She wouldn't tell, she wouldn't –

"Not this time, Cass."

My heart crashed to the bottom of the staircase, landing at Brittany's feet. "What?" I squeaked.

"Santana deserves to know." She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Britt, please." I sounded desperate. "Please don't worry her. I'm fine, I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Cass."

Then she walked away, leaving me feeling emptier than ever. I was hollow, empty, yellow. I was –

I'm so sorry.

* * *

><p>It rained and rained.<p>

I stopped dripping. I was too empty.

The thing about being empty is that you can still be so full. Full of worry. Full of thoughts. They swirl around in your mind and leave you with no escape. I know I'm not an medical expert, but I'm pretty sure that "empty" is like, a proven cause of insomnia. It's totally on webmd.

Sometimes I would lay in the dark and stare at the ceiling thinking about how exhausted I was, but I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. I would lay there listening to all those little night time sounds that fill up space between my thoughts and the silence. The faint beeping of taxis from outside. The people above us screaming at each other. The hum of the refrigerator from down the hall.

I'd lay there until all the sounds blended together into a cacophony of buzzing that I couldn't separate from thought and nighttime noise. It was a symphony I couldn't stop listening to.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat again.

It became a certain inescapable torture that I'd subject myself to until I just couldn't take it anymore and would push out of bed to pace my room or go pee or just do _something _besides lay there.

One night, I had gotten up and wandered down the hall, the refrigerator hum pulling me to the kitchen. It was late. The green numbers of the digital clock on the microwave shifted from 2:59 to 3:00. I felt out of place tip-toeing in the darkness.

I eased open the fridge out of habit, my mind wandering farther than the kitchen. The meeting with Abuela was in a week. I was nervous. I didn't want to go back. Going back would be a far more inescapable torture than sleepless nights.

Ohio was where I wasn't the good kind of me. I thought returning there would bring everything back. I didn't want to feel lost anymore.

"Cass?"

My head snapped over to where you were standing in the entryway to the kitchen. When had you gotten home? How long had I been standing there staring blankly into the fridge? I shut the door.

"Hey," I said.

"What are you doing?" You looked tired. You looked like me, but not quite as bad. Your skin wasn't the yellow of drooping tulips.

"I got hungry."

There was an awkward pause as you studied me. "At three in the morning?" I shrugged. "Want me to make you something?"

I thought about sitting there in the kitchen under your worried gaze and knew I couldn't handle it. "No thanks. I'll probably just go back to bed." I made a move to leave the kitchen, but you stopped me.

"Sit down." My eyes flicked toward you at the urgency in your voice. "I'll make you some pancakes."

I tensed up. Pancakes meant two things. You were really happy, or you were worried. I could only guess which one you were in that moment.

"You don't have to," I rushed out.

You rolled your eyes. "Sit down," you repeated.

I did what you said and watched you go through the motions of making the pancake batter in silence. I shifted uncomfortably and burrowed farther into my NYU hoodie.

(It's mine now, Tía, so don't even try to say it's yours.)

"How's your art project?" You asked eventually. I went through the motions, explaining it to you and talking about my frustration of not being able to think of any ideas. I faltered slightly when you asked how I had been spending so much time working on it after school if I didn't know what to do it on, but you didn't question me too much. That was good. I didn't like lying to you, but spray painting was the only outlet I had. Lying was worth it. Of all the things I am unsure of, this is not one of them.

One of the things I love about you, Tía, is that your pancakes are still so good even when I'm empty. In fact, they might taste even better then. I had eaten them all before I even had a chance to think about anything else besides how good they were.

Until you ruined it.

"I need to ask you something," you blurted into the silence. I set down my fork, suddenly apprehensive.

"Okay…"

"Are you…" You faltered and I could tell you were suddenly nervous. Was I what? "Are you depressed?"

You looked at me expectantly and I closed my eyes. Now I'm not so sure whether to be grateful you asked me that or not, but at the time, it felt like you had asked me the hardest question I'd ever been asked.

"I don't know," I sighed out. And I didn't. I had been depressed once before, right after the surgery. Abuela yelled at me to leave and it felt like my body was filling up with too much water. I was drowning or suffocating and everything felt way too heavy, like I couldn't take big enough gulps of air. This was different though. I was just empty, you know? So I told you that, about how I was empty.

People always say that when they talk about something, it's like a weight is lifted from their shoulders.

But you know what? Saying it out loud didn't make me any less empty.

"Do you know why?" You asked me.

I take it back. _This_ was the worst question I had ever been asked. I knew the answer. Of course I knew why I was empty. "Yeah."

I don't know why I told the truth about that, but lied about other things. Maybe I wanted you to know. Maybe you could help me.

Maybe it was the pancakes.

(I've done crazier things because of those pancakes, okay?)

"Do you want to talk about it?"

God. You were so sincere, Tía. Why? Why did – _do_ – you care about me so much? At the time I felt like I didn't deserve it. More than anything, I thought you didn't deserve my baggage.

"No."

"Don't you think you should?" You pressed.

"I don't really want to." I couldn't. It wasn't worth it. You would kick me out too, or you'd keep showing me far more compassion than I deserved.

"It might make you feel better," you suggested.

"It might make me feel worse." It definitely would have, I thought.

You leaned forward, closer to me and my guilt. "We need to talk about this, Cass. When we go to Ohio next week, I have to know everything so that I'm as prepared as I can be. Otherwise you might have to go live with your Abuela."

I clenched my fists, frustrated. "I hate this. Why does she want me now? We haven't spoken in a year and a half." And what was her motive? Did she really want me? Was she going to "save me?" Or was she trying to prove a point? God, I was so confused.

I could practically hear you thinking from across the table. I saw recognition bloom in your eyes at the same time as fear bloomed in my stomach. You had put something together.

"Does this have to do with why she didn't… want you?" You struggled, trying to make sense of me and put the pieces together.

"Can we not talk about it," I hissed, desperate to avoid the truth coming out.

"Cass we have to." You were as desperate as I was.

"I _can't_." I started to panic.

"Please, Cass. I need all the help I can get so you won't be taken away from me." Your voice cracked and I felt my resolve beginning to do the same. I grasped at any excuse to throw back at you, physically willing myself to hold everything in.

"I'm not some fucking possession. I hate this! Don't I get a say in what I want?" Everything was bubbling up inside me and I suddenly didn't feel empty anymore.

I felt scared.

"I don't know… Do you not want to stay here?"

Suddenly I felt everything at once. Fear, anger, guilt, sadness, worry.

Love.

"_Of course_ I want to stay here." How could you think I didn't want that? "I don't want to live with that bitch. I just don't like how everyone's just acting like they can fight over me like I can't even think or like I don't even have an opinion on the fucking situation."

"I'm sorry," you squeaked. I lowered my arms in defeat. What were we doing Tía? That wasn't us. You're usually so confident. Everything felt like it was falling apart.

"It's just… I mean… I want…" I struggled to fix it. But how could I do that without telling you everything? I couldn't. "I need to go to bed."

I watched as your face fell. "Cass, come on, we need to talk about this."

"I can't, Tía, I'm sorry."

Would I ever run out of things to apologize for?

"Thanks for the pancakes," I whispered before retreating to my room and that inescapable cacophony of noise.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat again.

* * *

><p>All I wanted was an escape.<p>

To be free from the situation. To be older and able to make my own decisions.

I was a caterpillar, suffocating on the inside of my cocoon, wriggling around and fighting my way out.

Growing up is full of the yearning to escape. Maybe you're a boy from a small town, eager to run away and fulfill dreams and aspirations. Maybe you're a kid looking to escape the limitations and hardships that come with being different. Or maybe you're a girl fleeing from a troubled past.

We all want to change. We all want to _make_ a change.

What we don't realize is that the thing that is trapping us is the thing that is helping us make that change.

Our problems, our heartaches, all the things that make up our unavoidable teenage angst… those are the things that are causing us to become who we want to be and live how we want to live.

And despite all these things that we hate, all the things we want to change, we don't realize that these things _are_ changing us.

It might take weeks – months – years – but eventually, all caterpillars break free of their prison and become butterflies.

Eventually, we will outlast our hardships. Breaking free, we emerge – more beautiful than ever.

So yeah, what, Tía, I realize that these hard times were making me the amazing, terrific, awesome, beautiful (humble) person I am today. That's not the point. We only notice these things in retrospect.

I've said it before and I'll say it a million more times: I'm not fucking perfect, okay?

I was scared and insecure, angry and confused. All I wanted was something that would make me feel like I was in control.

I was being safe. I wasn't doing anything illegal. I would've gotten away with it too, if one of the subway lines hadn't been shut down for an hour. So I got home too late. I didn't know you'd be waiting to attack me.

"Where have you been?"

You were worried about me again. You worry about me too much. What, you think I can't tell? You get angry when you get scared, angry when you feel threatened, and angry when you get worried.

"Where did you get this money?"

Did I mention I get angry when I feel threatened and scared too?

"You went in my room?"

"I was getting your laundry."

"It was under my bed!"

We quarrel, Tía, but we don't usually fight. Maybe the tension had been building up. Maybe we had both been winding up so tight that we were just itching to take our frustrations out on something. I don't know, but before I knew it, we were shouting at each other.

We stood there, seething and furious, when Brittany walked in.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" Brittany looked between the two of us, her eyes landing on me. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, Cass," you snapped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," I bit back.

"You wouldn't be so defensive about your damn jar if nothing was wrong."

Brittany strode across the room and in between the two of us. "What jar?" You held up my jar of money and hope and hard work. Brittany eyed it for a moment before turning to look at me.

_That's your money?_ She seemed to ask. _From spray painting?_

I gave her a stiff nod.

"Oh."

You rounded on her. I had never seen you so angry. Well… maybe on New Year's. But I had never seen you so angry with me or Brittany.

"_Oh?_ Do you know what this is Britt?"

Brittany gave a sheepish nod and I felt all the air rush out of me. This was it. I was caught.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" You glared at me. I glared back.

"Nothing is going on!"

"Cass," Brittany pleaded. "Just tell her."

I shook my head furiously. "Britt!" She promised. God, I was so pissed.

"Fuck this!" You threw my jar on the couch. "I'm sorry that I can't be in on whatever fucked up thing you guys are doing to make money. If this is some bonding shit, fine. You could at least tell me what's going on because I feel like I deserve to fucking know!"

You moved to storm away and I inched closer to my jar, hoping I could escape to my room. Brittany grabbed your wrist and turned on me. "Tell her. Now."

Let me tell you: when Brittany gets mad at you, it's over.

"Fine. I made that money selling my paintings." I told you what I did every day after school. How I would sell my paintings and how Brittany made sure I was safe. You became angrier, just like I knew you would.

You're so protective, Tía. It makes you really predictable. More than anything, it makes doing anything adventurous frustrating.

When you started yelling at Britt, that's when I knew it had gone too far.

"It's not her fault." It wasn't. It was all me.

"I can't believe you did that!" Everything was spiraling out of control and I just kept getting angrier and angrier. I had proven that I could take care of myself. I had done it for six long fucking years.

"I'm not a child!"

"You're acting like one!"

"Well you're acting like my mom! But guess what, you're not her!"

You stared at me indignantly. "Well sorry for caring about you!"

I was tired of being treated like a child. I was tired of not taking everything for granted. I wanted to be in control. I wanted to hurt you like I had hurt my whole life.

(It wasn't your fault. I just wanted it to be.)

"This doesn't even matter, because next week I probably won't even fucking be here anymore." The look of hurt on your face was satisfying at the time. I stormed away to my room, chest heaving and fists clenched. I heard you yell a little more and then the door slammed.

Suddenly the apartment was eerily quiet.

I caught my breath and paced around my room, seething for a few long minutes. Then it all sank in.

Shit.

What had I done? Why did I say all that stuff? I had hurt one of the only few people in my life who _cared_ about me. Someone who cared about what I wanted. Someone who desperately needed me just as much as I needed them.

(The worst part was that it had felt good.)

Suddenly I could hear your voice in my head, pleading and insecure. _"Do you not want to stay here?"_

I was so stupid. For someone so strong, you can be impossibly fragile, Tía. And what had I done but expose your weakness and use it against you? I hurt you, and in the process I had hurt Britt too.

Fuck. I needed to fix it.

I opened my door cautiously. I could hear the soft murmur of the TV from down the hall.

Padding down the hall, I listened for the sounds of fighting or crying or anything, but there was mostly quiet.

Brittany was sitting on the couch staring blankly at the TV. It appeared that you had left.

"Britt," I whispered. She didn't hear me. "Britt."

Her eyes flickered toward me then back at the TV. I awkwardly sat down next to her, frantically searching my brain for something to say to make it right.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing I could come up with.

All at once, Brittany crumpled. Her face fell into her hands and her body wracked with violent sobs. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Britt?"

She looked up and took deep breaths. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," I interrupted. "It's okay." I hate when people cry. What are you supposed to say?

"I'm just supposed to be…" Brittany trailed off, hastily wiping at her eyes. "You're going through stuff. I can't be breaking down and…"

"It's okay," I said again.

She sniffled and reached for my hand, her long fingers crushing my tiny ones.

"I shouldn't have asked you to lie for me. That wasn't fair."

She squeezed my hand. It kind of hurt. We sat in silence for a minute.

"She's really pissed, isn't she?" I said eventually.

Brittany puffed her cheeks up before exhaling. "Yeah."

"I shouldn't have said that stuff."

Brittany turned to me, her eyes suddenly holding a determined intensity. "We've been doing this too much. We can't keep things from her. We're her family. Families don't do that."

My heart clenched. I was keeping so much from everyone.

I nodded.

"This needs to stop Cass." Her voice broke.

"I know it does." Brittany was right. I couldn't do this anymore. Me and you, Tía, we had been hurt so much by people that were supposed to be our family. Maybe it was time for our little family to make a change.

"No more lies. No more secrets. We need to stop hurting people intentionally." Brittany leveled her gaze at me. I shivered.

"I didn't mean to-"

"Yes you did." Brittany sighed. "But it's okay. We just can't do it anymore. It's not fair to her, Cass."

"Yeah," I whispered.

"Starting now." Brittany nodded determinedly and stuck out the hand that wasn't clenching onto mine tightly.

"Starting now," I echoed.

"No more lies."

"No lying, check."

Brittany smiled quietly. "No more saying hurtful things."

"Nice words only, check."

"No more secrets."

I took a deep breath. "No more secrets."

"Good." Brittany extended her pinky. "Promise."

I stared at her pinky. Could I do this? Maybe it was time to lay it all out there. Not all family had to be like the one we had come to know.

I trusted Brittany. Why was it so hard to trust you with who I was and what had happened to me? I had no reason to think you wouldn't continue to show me all the love and sense of home that you had done so far.

I could do it.

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Cass._

I grabbed Brittany's pinky. "Promise."

* * *

><p>Have you ever experienced that moment of fear, Tía, that suddenly explodes in your stomach when you realize that everything you know is about to change?<p>

What about that doubt that creeps into your throat because you're about to take a risk that could cause you to lose the only people that you ever truly trusted?

Maybe you have. I can only imagine how you must feel every time somebody finds out that you're gay.

Telling you everything was hard. Not as hard as deciding whether to keep a baby or not. But still. It was hard.

When you tell somebody something like that – something that you've been cradling deep inside of you out of fear – you relive it as if it had happened the day before.

It played out behind my eyelids in high definition until I was gasping for breath and gripping tightly to a hand that I hadn't realized had slid between my fingers.

I could feel my heartbeat in my ears as I walked toward Tommy to tell him.

My legs shook with fear as I sat in a waiting room.

My head swam with clouded confusion as I listened through a drugged haze to Tommy's mom screaming at him. _Look what you've done to her. Poor girl._

There are some things you can't tell someone. Things that can't really be put into words.

So often, these are the things that define us. Whether bad or good, they are indescribable.

How do you tell someone how much you've struggled to overcome how much you hate yourself? Or how much you've willed yourself to believe that _you're important_?

I am by no means perfect. I have hurt too many people and made so many stupid decisions.

You can have excuses, _reasons_ explaining why you did what you did, but does that justify anything? Does that make it okay?

There are only so many times you can apologize for something that you can't undo.

People either forgive you or they don't.

But what about when that person who needs to forgive you… is you? How many times can you apologize to yourself?

Have you ever felt that moment of crushing _relief_, Tía, that comes when someone pulls you into their arms and tells you –

_It's okay_.

When someone tells you that you did what you thought was best? You aren't that horrible person you thought you were?

When someone tells you that they love you, and they mean it?

Well I have.

It was time I stopped apologizing to myself – to everyone. Apologies will only get you so far.

I was done saying sorry. I was ready to say something better. Something that could mean so much more.

_Thank you._

(For everything.)

**A/N: **Um, hello. First off I would like to apologize for the impossibly long hiatus. I want to thank everyone who has waited patiently and has stuck with this story. I have been constantly busy this summer with work and family and I just moved, but I am hopefully back to a more consistent update schedule. It is unfortunate but true that this story is not my first priority even if I do love it and, by extension, all of its fans. Thank you for understanding.

Secondly, check out my other stories if you haven't already, I appreciate any feedback!

Third, starting now I am open to suggestions for ANY and ALL prompts any readers would like to see fulfilled. Canon, AU, one-shots, multi chap, song fics, you name it, and I will do my best to try for you guys :)

Lastly, thank you to my awesome friend/beta Carola (wewillwalk) for taking time out of HER busy schedule to edit this for me. You can check her out at Tumblr, username toyotacarola and you can check ME out at thatswherehopelies

Thank you all for your patience!

Lots of love, Angie


	31. A Portrait of Me

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Cass._

Promises are complicated things.

A lot of people make promises with no intention of keeping them.

Other people make promises and wouldn't dream of breaking them.

And then there are those times when people make promises with the intention of keeping them, but something changes.

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Cass._

I have never really been a promises type of girl. I don't make promises, I don't ask people to promise me things. A promise weighs about as much as a snowflake in my opinion.

But I had sworn to Brittany that I would change. I wouldn't hurt people intentionally. I wouldn't keep secrets.

I was determined to keep that promise, Tía, I swear.

But things changed.

To put it in the simplest of terms: I struggled.

I sat by myself, silence settling over me like a thick fog, and I struggled.

Leave. Stay.

Ohio. New York.

My dad. You and Brittany.

Should I break my promise to Brittany for a fickle chance to be with my dad again?

Should I walk out on my family because I had found something better in New York?

Should I stay in that stupid conference room forever and refuse to make a choice because it was just too damn hard to decide?

These are the questions I struggled with.

People in my family have a long history of abandoning each other. We leave, we forget, we do what is most suitable for ourselves.

I had changed though. I wasn't the same person I was when I left Ohio before. I was a better person. Maybe this better person could start a new history. One where family sticks together through thick and thin. One that puts others first.

If I left New York, I wouldn't be abandoning you. I would be leaving, but not abandoning.

If I stayed in New York, wouldn't I be abandoning my dad? I was all he had left.

_Don't make promises you can't keep, Cass._

I'm not proud that I broke my promise. I had faith that you would understand, but it killed me to hurt you like that, Tía.

_I'm so sorry._

* * *

><p>When something is created with the intention of having an audience, we must look at the creator's motives. What is the purpose of the creation? A message? A political statement? Pure entertainment?<p>

I'm a kid. I know the drill. Read this book. What does it mean? What are the symbols? Write an essay. Complain about how the author probably had no intention for that black door or that rosebush or that hat to mean something. Blah, blah, blah.

I'm also an artist, though. I know that a lot of art isn't necessarily a message or a statement, but all art is a form of expression. Every piece of art means something.

The thing we have to figure out, though, is whether the artist has an intended meaning or whether we're supposed to simply enjoy the piece and find our _own_ meaning.

Is that painting merely self-expression?

Is that drawing an outlet for an artist who is screaming to be heard?

Living in Ohio a second time was hard for me. But Quinn was right; a camera is a great way to narrow the world down into a tiny bubble and make it easier to understand yourself, the compaction of the lens focusing on one small moment in a very large existence. It really helps put things into perspective.

What living in Ohio showed me is that my whole life has been an accumulation of drawings, paintings, and pictures that are my desires flushing themselves out of me. Maybe not in such a literal sense, but the overall portrait? That's me.

This is a portrait of me. And I am screaming to be heard.

* * *

><p><strong>Week One<strong>

_Dear Tía,_

_Life with Abuela is not ideal. In her natural habitat, she seems to be omniscient. I cannot escape her, she is around every corner. I'm doing my best to deal with it. _

_I haven't seen my dad yet. What if he doesn't want to see me and all of this was for nothing? _

_At night I lay in the bed that Abuela set up for me in the guest room and sometimes I can feel the hitch in your throat when we said goodbye. I guess I never expected to feel so strongly about someone who is family. I miss you a lot. And Brittany. Tell her hi for me._

_Love, Cass_

I sighed and stared at the letter in my notebook. In the front of the classroom, my new teacher droned on about alkaline metals and it felt like I was going to fall asleep any second. I looked up at the clock and internally groaned; there were still ten more minutes of class and three more hours until I was out of there.

My transition to Ohio had so far been about as comfortable as lying in a bed of pushpins.

I was able to take all of the same classes that I had been taking in New York, but to be honest, the teachers in Ohio are actually the most boring group of humans on the face of the planet.

Every day I felt like I was just waiting it out. I don't know what I was waiting out, but that's what I was doing. I'd sit through my classes, do my homework, avoid Abuela, and then go to bed. I mean, it'd only been like four days, but I felt out of my element.

I missed New York a lot.

I missed ordering pizza and watching Jersey Shore with you and Brittany before you left for work. I missed spray painting. I missed that stupid boy John Crater.

John and I texted a lot. Sometimes it felt like we'd talked more in Ohio than we ever really did before I left.

Still, I hadn't talked to you at all. I wanted to send you that letter, but I don't know. It felt kind of fake. Or like I was saying too much and also not enough at the same time. It didn't feel like _me_. I didn't know how to say sorry or explain myself in a way that justified anything. Writing to you felt like painting a picture for homework on a deadline – it's forced and shitty and didn't get to the heart of what I really wanted to say.

I closed my notebook on the letter when the bell rung.

I could think about it later.

Back at Abuela's I tried to unpack some of my stuff. It was weird. When I first moved to New York, all of my clothes stayed in my suitcase until I'd worn them all and needed to do laundry. Unpacking wasn't something I had wanted to do. Mostly because I thought if I did, I'd be giving in. Somehow that fits, now that I look back on it. Maybe I never really gave in. Maybe I just acclimated, like ink slowly easing into parchment.

Ohio felt like giving in. I know I was dumb for picking Ohio again when I really didn't want to be there, but it was something I needed to do.

I was still just trying to work up the courage to actually do the thing I needed to do. If that makes sense. Maybe it was going to see my dad, but somehow it felt bigger than that.

I prickled up when Abuela called me for dinner. She makes my body tingle in bad ways, like it's on alert for some sort of attack. My toes clenched tight in my worn red Chucks when I sat down at the table.

Conversations with Abuela were always the same.

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"Did you do your homework?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to come to church for youth group?"

"No thanks."

And that was that.

Sometimes she'd tell me about the things she did at work. Abuela really isn't that bad of a person, even if her actions are sometimes outdated and over-dramatic. She works for this non-profit charity group that mostly helps kids in third world countries get books and education and that kind of thing. And the thing is, she really cares. So it's like, sometimes I can't help but not _hate_ her, even when I _really_ want to.

So Abuela was going on and on about something concerning used textbooks when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

**Crater:** School was so shitty without you today. We played soccer in gym. Ms. Pierce made me be goalie and I got nailed in the fucking face!

I smiled a little at that and looked up to make sure Abuela was still basically talking to herself. I started typing back.

_Ha. You're supposed to stop it with your hands, moron. How is Ms. Pierce? Too energetic as usual?_

**Crater:** Shut up, asshole. And yeah, she's okay. She sat on the bleachers and watched today instead of playing. I don't think she likes soccer much.

I was about to reply when another text came through.

**Crater:** I miss you, by the way.

Something tugged inside of me, like a knot pulling tight.

"Cass, put that away at the table." I flinched at being caught and the knot unraveled. Abuela was giving me a stern look. "Are you sure you don't want to come to church with me?"

I sighed. "Yeah, Abuela. I have some stuff I need to do."

"Like what?"

I just barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Abuela didn't really want me to do art or anything outside of school. She said I was wasting time that I could be studying. "I need to catch up on some reading."

Abuela pursed her lips. "Okay, well if you change your mind…"

I nodded and cleared my plate, putting it in the dishwasher before skittering off to my room. Like I said, the less time spent with Abuela, the better.

I continued to sort through some stuff I'd brought. I sifted through the boxes of the rest of my belongings that the UPS guy had dropped off the day before, avoiding looking at the New York return address. It made it hard to unpack. A little voice in my head kept telling me that I had made the wrong decision.

I chuckled a little bit when I saw your NYU sweatshirt. I forgot to thank you for sending that, Tía. Not only did it feel like my own little security blanket when I ached to talk to you, but Abuela always scowled a bit when she saw me wearing it. She never acknowledged it out loud, but I would take anything that annoyed her and run with it. I was torturous.

I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and grabbed the next thing out of the box. Humming in appreciation, I picked up the camera Quinn gave me, surprised that it had found its way back to me. I had tried to give it back, but I guess Quinn wanted me to have it.

The camera felt heavy in my hands as I cradled it in my palms. I smiled sadly at the thought of all the undeveloped photos on the inside. A few of the New York skyscrapers, the hazy view at the airport. One of you and Brittany hugging goodbye. I missed you guys so much that it made it hard to breathe sometimes. It was like a string was tugging at my heart and a brick was tied to that string, pulling it down down down.

I sighed and put the viewfinder up to my eye. My room was barren and white and I clicked a picture of the window that looked out onto Abuela's front yard. I lied down and pointed the lens at the fan hanging from the ceiling, still and dusty from lack of use. I imagined yanking the string and turning it on, watching as it spun around and around.

I didn't do that, though. Instead I just stared at it, wondering how blades so straight and thick could produce a cool wind.

I was back in Ohio, but somehow I didn't feel the wind at my back. I didn't feel free and carefree. I just felt kind of stagnant.

I sighed again and set the camera on my night stand.

* * *

><p>Later that night, I breathed into the silence that encompassed me in the dark as I tried to fall asleep. I needed to see my dad. That's why I was back in Ohio. That's why I had sacrificed everything that had felt good about my life in the last couple of months.<p>

I just couldn't help but think something would go wrong. I had so many questions, so many worries. I so badly wanted to tell them to you, Tía. I had so many things I wanted to ask your opinion about. Or at least, I wanted you to tell me things would still be okay even if they, you know, weren't okay.

_At night I lay in the bed that Abuela set up for me in the guest room and sometimes I can feel the hitch in your throat when we said goodbye._

This is what heartbreak feels like, I would think. When you can't sleep because you keep replaying goodbye in your head. It's so often that we think of the hurt we feel when people leave us. I had a lot of experience with that. But maybe being left isn't always the hardest. Maybe _leaving_ people we love is hardest because we have to choose to do it. Hurting people is hard, especially when hurting them hurts you, too.

So many times I would look at the letter I tried to write you, but I realized I had a lot of things to say and no way to say them.

Lying there in the dark, I struggled to think of what to tell you and how to put it into words, but I couldn't. Then I had a thought and I frantically fumbled for the camera still on the night stand. I tapped the back of it, thinking of the cheap film hidden behind the dark plastic.

Maybe I didn't have to say anything. A picture is worth a thousand words, right?

The next day I developed the picture of the fan, put it in an envelope addressed to New York, and stuck it in the mailbox.

* * *

><p><strong>Week Two<strong>

I started carrying that camera with me everywhere. I took pictures of everything. I took pictures of people at school, I took pictures of the snow. I took a picture of Abuela's hands, wrinkled and delicate, before she snapped at me to "put that annoying contraption away."

I was a maniac. And kind of a creeper. I carried it around my neck, never too far from my anxious hands, ready to aim it at anything in a moment's notice.

I even brought it to school with me. In English, this really quiet kid, Beau kept staring at it.

Let me tell you something, Tía. Beau… Beau is an interesting character. He was in three of my Ohio classes and I noticed he had this tendency to be unnaturally still. He had black hair and dark eyes and always wore the same thing: jeans, black boots, and a fading green hoodie. Most importantly, he never talked. Teachers would call on him and he'd ignore them. Some students would be lucky enough to get a few words out of him, but it was rare.

I, fortunately, was one of the privileged.

The school I went to in Ohio was strange in the fact that students there had an obsession with cold beverages. Specifically, slushies from the local Conoco.

I found this out first hand.

After I had been there for a week and started carrying my camera with me everywhere, I started to gain some attention. Mostly unwanted. The thing was, I wanted to stay under the radar. I just thought that I could justify everything if I made good grades, fixed things with my dad, and when it came time for college, maybe I could return to New York. That was the plan. So I tried to keep a low-profile and live my life.

It didn't really work.

I can't help it, I know, but I'm what boys would call "bangable." Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, Tía, but I'm just being honest.

And with my camera always around my neck, I was hot, but also _strange_, which proved a deadly combination.

I had been approached by a few guys, who admittedly had _politely_ asked for my number, and I, also admittedly, had not so politely declined.

(What, Tía, I have _never_ been polite, this shouldn't be a surprise.)

This is where Beau comes in.

Tuesday of my second week, I'd been walking to gym (I still fucking hate gym) when this guy came up to me, trying to be all suave and shit, but he was kind of massive, I think a wrestler, so it was kind of a futile attempt.

"Hey, you're new right?"

"Yep," I said, trying to move past him.

"We should get coffee sometime." He smiled at me, but like I said, I'm not polite.

"Thanks, but I'd rather eat nails."

He smirked. "I thought you might say that." Suddenly, two of his buddies flanked his sides, preventing my escape. "No coffee, then? How about slushies?"

"Move, asshats," I growled.

The three of them laughed again, and the guy on the left lifted up a cup. "It's a shame we couldn't go out. I'll just have to introduce you to our famous slushies right now."

I narrowed my eyes, confused, and took a step back as the kid with the cup took a step forward.

"Brain freeze?" He asked.

Before I could move, he had slung his cup forward, purple liquid flying out. I instinctively closed my eyes and turned away, but as the sound of impact between liquid and skin surrounded me, I felt surprisingly warm and dry. I opened my eyes.

It took me a delayed second to realize it, but silent, dark Beau had stepped in the line of fire, effectively soaking himself in slushie.

The wrestlers laughed and high-fived, excited that their grenade had found a target, and sauntered off. I stood there shocked, staring at the purple seeping into Beau's green hoodie and looking down at my own dry NYU one.

I moved forward. "Assholes. What the fuck? Are you okay?"

Beau wiped his eyes, ice crystals falling to the floor, and grunted. "It stings."

"Right." I looked around awkwardly. The hallway was mostly vacant as the late bell was about to ring. I noticed the men's bathroom down the hall. I grabbed his sleeve and led him to the door, peeking inside to see that it was empty before pulling him in.

I led him to the sink and grabbed a bunch of paper towels while he washed his face and tried to flush his eyes with hot water.

He took the towels from my hand and patted down his eyes. When he opened them I noticed they weren't as dark as they were blue. They reminded me of John's. The knot in my chest tugged again.

I looked down at the stain in Beau's green sweatshirt. "Shit. Does that… ummm?" I pointed to the purple splotch.

"It comes out," Beau grumbled. "Or at least the blue dye did."

I scrunched my face in confusion. "This has happened to you before?"

He shrugged, then nodded. "Few times."

"But why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because they're massive and I'm tiny."

For the first time, I noticed his size. He _was_ tiny. He had to be barely five feet. I towered over him, but most people were gigantic compared to me. I was always looking up at John or Brittany at home.

"Oh." I didn't really know what to say, but kept imagining that purple blob seeping into my precious NYU hoodie, the one tangible thing I had that connected me to you. "Well, thanks, I really appreciate it. You didn't have to do that."

Beau shrugged again. "It's fine." He eyed the camera around my neck. "You should probably put that away, though." His eyes shifted from my camera to his own green sweatshirt.

I pursed my lips. "What the hell is wrong with people here?"

Beau laughed darkly and took a step toward the bathroom door. "Let me know when you find an answer." Then he opened the door and walked out.

I looked at myself in the mirror above the sink, noticing the way my hair fell nicely over my shoulders and the circles under my eyes that seemed darker than the rest of my skin. I needed to suck it up and see my dad. Ohio wasn't what I remembered it to be.

I shook my head and headed out of the bathroom.

At the last minute I tucked my camera into my backpack. Better safe than sorry.

* * *

><p><strong>Crater:<strong> Went down to Liberty Park yesterday. There was some dude in your spot. He didn't make anything as good as you though.

_Probably better than me. I'm out of practice._

**Crater: **That's lame. You need to get your spray paint on!

_Not here. Nowhere to do it, nobody to buy it._

**Crater: **When are you coming home?

**Crater: **I miss you.

**Crater:** Cass?

_Gotta go. Talk to you later._

**Crater:**Okay. Bye :(

* * *

><p>"Cass!"<p>

**Crater: **I miss you.

I looked down at my phone, at the message I'd been staring at for forty-five minutes.

"Cass, get up!"

**Crater: **Cass?

_Gotta go. Talk to you later._

I stuffed my phone in my jeans pocket and pulled my hair into a ponytail, not up to looking my best for the day ahead.

"Cass!"

"I'M COMING!" I slung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my camera from my night stand. It was almost full; I'd need to change out the film in the next day or two.

I stomped down the stairs and into Abuela's kitchen where a pot of coffee was waiting. I pulled a mug out of the cupboard and filled it to the brim, sighing in contentment when I took a sip and felt warmth flood my stomach. It was cold outside. I thought about you and Brittany fussing over the heat in the apartment back in New York and sighed.

"CASS!"

I jumped in surprise and fumbled the mug in my hand. It jostled in my palm as I instinctively tried to catch it, but it crashed to the floor. I somehow managed to not get coffee on my red Chucks.

Abuela rushed into the kitchen. "What was that?"

I didn't answer. Already, my camera was in my hands and up to my eye. I peered through the viewfinder and steadied my buzzing mind as I focused on the coffee that was quickly spreading over the white tile. I clicked the picture just as Abuela hissed behind me.

"You need to be more careful, Cassandra. Clean that up. Make sure you get all of the glass."

I ignored her and pressed the button again.

"Put that away. You're going to be late for school." Abuela appeared in front of me and I set the camera on the counter.

"Okay, sorry." I went to the closet and grabbed a rag.

"Do you want to go to youth group tonight?"

I cringed. It's not that I had anything against youth group or church or anything. It's just. Well, you know my religious outlook on life, Tía. I'd rather spend my time thinking about other things.

"No," I said, an idea suddenly popping into my brain. "I'm going to go visit my dad after school."

Abuela seemed surprised. "Oh, okay. Do you need a ride?"

I shifted uncomfortably, haven't having thought of that. "Yeah, I guess so."

Abuela smiled softly at me. "Okay. I'll pick you up after school gets out."

I nodded and crouched down to clean up the spill. Abuela straightened up and cleared her throat.

"Well, you're going to be late."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Would she ever not be intolerable?

* * *

><p>After school, Abuela drove me to the Ohio State Penitentiary. By the time we got there, we only had one hour until visiting hours were over. Abuela came in with me and we were buzzed through security and then she talked to someone at a desk, explaining who we were here to visit and all of that stuff. Then I went and waited in a little room with a few tables, but they were all empty. Abuela waited outside the door. I had never been in a jail before. It was really intimidating.<p>

When they brought my dad in, I barely recognized him at all. To be honest, he was always changing. When I was little, Dad had this softness about him that eased over my skin like rainwater. As I grew older, he seemed to grow edgier. After Mom died, Dad transformed completely. He had hardened and his eyes seemed more distant and unfamiliar.

A few months in jail had made Dad sharper and somehow smaller. I have to say he doesn't really look that great in orange. His beard was fuller and grayer than I'd ever seen it. A guard handcuffed him to the table then took a step back, but didn't leave the room.

Dad eyed me reluctantly. I decided to break the silence. "Hey Dad."

After a second, the man across the table sunk down in the chair a little. "Cass? What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "I live with Abuela now."

His expression was unreadable. "Thought you lived in New York."

"I did, but… not anymore." I fidgeted in my seat. What did I have to say? I suddenly couldn't remember why I was there.

Dad let out a grunt and looked at me questioningly.

"Well, I was living with Mom's sister, Santana. Tía, she's pretty cool, I guess. I don't know if you've met her. She's a bartender. I know it sounds weird, but it's actually pretty awesome, I guess. I mean, I liked New York a lot. I made some friends at school, and Tía's girlfriend, Brittany, she's pretty great. She teaches gym, which isn't that great, but you know…" I realized I was rambling and cleared my throat. "Anyway. Abuela decided that she might want to take care of me still so… yeah."

Dad nodded and hummed a little. I didn't know what that meant.

"Anyway, I decided to come visit you."

"That was nice of you." Dad smiled a little and I relaxed slightly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, well."

Dad snorted and somehow things felt okay.

"Are you in school?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

The guard stepped forward and I knew it was time to go. I stood up. "Well, I should probably go. I'll come back some other time, though."

Dad didn't say anything, but tilted his head to the side.

"Okay, well. Bye."

"Bye Cass. Take it easy."

"Sure thing."

I skittered out of the little room and motioned to Abuela that we were going now.

"How'd it go?" Abuela asked me.

"Fine." My face felt hot and I anxiously hurried out of the jail.

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing really. Just what I've been up to and stuff."

When we got to the car, I settled into myself and relaxed a little. I didn't know what to make of my visit. Was Dad happy to see me? I wanted to talk to you so badly, Tía.

I had had such a fucked up week.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Tía,<em>

_So much has happened this week. I kind of made this new friend, Beau. Well, I guess we're not really friends. I spoke to him once. This is actually bigger than it sounds because he doesn't really talk to people. _

_Have you ever had a slushie?_

_I went to see my dad yesterday. It was… I don't know how to describe it. Not awful, but not that great. I'm going to keep trying, I guess. _

_Sometimes I just wonder why relationships with people can be so complicated. Why is it so hard to see people who don't visibly show us love, but so easy to keep the people who care about us in the past? Maybe it's just easy to try to outrun these things. Maybe we keep seeing people who don't show us love because we keep hoping that they will._

_I'm just really uncertain about a lot of things, I guess._

_I miss you so much sometimes that I forget why I've come here. How is work? Did you get my last picture? I miss Quinn and Brittany and Puck and even some kids at school._

_I keep thinking that_

I sighed and crumpled up the letter. I was at the post office. In my hands was an envelope addressed to you and the picture I took of the shattered mug. The juxtaposition in it made that knot double over itself in my chest when I looked at it.

I kept trying to write to you, but everything I wrote wasn't right. I didn't know what would be right, but the things I was saying were just… not right. I couldn't put it into words at all.

I tossed the letter into the trash and poised my pen over my notebook again. After a minute, I shook my head and gave up, sticking the picture into the envelope, licking the seal, and sticking a stamp on it. Then I kissed it and slid it in the slot, trying to imagine what you'd think when you opened it.

I hoped that you wouldn't get upset. I hoped you'd hear what I couldn't say.

* * *

><p><strong>Week Three<strong>

It was blizzarding. Snow pelted from the sky in heavy clots. It felt like Ohio had been caught in a warzone between the gods. I shivered endlessly as I sat in the kitchen and did my chemistry homework, praying for summer. I was in the midst of balancing an equation when my phone buzzed.

**Crater:** Cass Cass Cassssssssssssssss!

I rolled my eyes. _I'm sorry, did you want something?_

**Crater:** Yeah, when are you coming home?

_I told you, I don't know._ I sighed. John kept asking me this daily, as if I was just going to move again so soon, like I could just pack my things and move back if things started to go to shit…

**Crater:** But I miss you. And like, dude. I think I Ms. Pierce misses you. She's being weird.

That caught my attention. _Weird how?_

**Crater:** Like, she barely participates when we play games anymore. And yesterday, I mentioned to that ginger chick Katie how we've been talking, and Ms. Pierce came up and was all "hey, you've talked to Cass?" So I told her yeah, then she kept asking me how you were and stuff. I don't know. It was weird.

I tapped my fingers on the table, an aching feeling filtering into my bones. Maybe I should call you and Brittany. It's just… it hurt to think about you guys. I avoided it at all costs. I mean, I'd call you eventually. Someday. Later…

_Oh. Well. I miss you, too._

**Crater:** Haha, I know! ;)

I bit down a smile. _Oh, fuck off asshole._

**Crater: **You can't make me as I am here and you, unfortunately, are way over there in Hoe-hio.

_You're so lame._

"What are you smiling at?"

I looked up to see that Abuela had come into kitchen and was putting on a pot of coffee.

"Oh. Nothing. Just texting with a friend of mine from New York."

"Hmmm." Abuela nodded and gestured to the textbook and worksheets spread out over the table. "Well make sure you get all of your homework done."

I nodded. "Yeah, I will." Abuela set a cup of coffee in front of me, then sat down with the paper. "Abuela, can you take me to see my dad again tomorrow?"

She lifted her head to look at me. "Yes, I guess I could do that."

"Cool, thanks." I went back to my homework.

"Have you been thinking about college at all?" Abuela asked me after a minute.

I froze, my eyes stalling on the textbook in front of me. "A little bit." I took a deep breath. "I might go back to New York. They have some pretty good art schools." I hadn't looked into it too much, but I had done a little bit of research when you had brought it up at Christmas.

I didn't look up, but I could tell Abuela had pursed her lips from the stiffness of her hand around her coffee cup. After a minute she said, "You can do better than art school, Cass."

Finally, I glanced up and met her eyes. "I don't want to do anything else."

"You're good at science."

I sighed in frustration. "I don't want to go to art school because I think it's the only thing I'm good at. I know I'm good at science and I don't suck too badly at English. I don't care about that. I want to go to art school because I _like_ art. I like it _and_ I'm good at it."

Abuela leveled her eyes at me. "The success rate of an artist is just so low. You would have such a hard–"

"There are a lot of careers that involve art that aren't necessarily sitting in a studio and painting all day, actually. Like storyboarding and animation. Or advertising. I really don't care about the success rate. This is what I want to do."

Abuela sighed loudly and shook her head. "Well, we'll see. We can talk about this another time. You still have six months to look into it."

I fought the urge to throw my textbook at her. "Whatever." I gathered up my homework and made a move to leave the kitchen before turning back to her. "You don't understand anything Abuela. You need to stop trying to put people into little boxes or all of your relationships will turn out like yours and Santana's."

"Santana made her choice," Abuela stared back at me defiantly.

"Actually, I think _you_ did. Try not to make it with me. Again."

Then I shook my head and left the room.

* * *

><p>My favorite flower is the riverlily. Nobody really knows this because I think flowers are stupid and if you're going to give me something on a date, it should be chocolate not flowers. Plus, the riverlily isn't really sold in America.<p>

I've never actually seen a riverlily in real life. They mostly grow in Africa. I discovered them when I was little and obsessed with the Encyclopedia of Unusual Life that I received for my birthday when I was seven.

The first thing that drew me to riverlilies was their name. Hesperantha coccinea. I called them Esperanzas for the longest time because their name reminded me of the beautiful (and badass) girl in Hunchback of Notre Dame who looked a little bit like me.

The second thing that caught my attention was their color. The petals are strikingly red, a pillow of blood, a warning. They're nicknamed the crimson flag. I truly cannot describe the redness or the softness and delicacy of the petals. I'll have to paint one for you sometime, Tía.

Like most flowers, riverlilies bloom in the spring and the summer. But the best thing about them is that they are a very resilient flower. They will bunker inside the soil through a harsh winter, shelter themselves underground against the cold, and emerge powerful and radiant once again when the sun peeks out after the colder months.

There's just something really special about such a delicate organism taking care of itself when it seems like sometimes the strongest and most determined of us feel like we can't.

* * *

><p>The trip to see my father the next day was similar to the first time. Abuela picked me up from school and drove me there. I went through security, sat in an empty room, and waited until Dad was brought in to see me.<p>

He didn't say much, really. I babbled on and on, hoping to catch him up on what was going on in my life. I didn't really know what else to do.

I told him about you and how we like to watch Jersey Shore together a lot and how much of a stubborn bitch you can be sometimes (no offense, Tía, but you know you are).

I explained how we went to meet Brittany's family over Christmas and how Britt was my gym teacher and how she was choreographing some show on Broadway.

I told him about how I was in the AP Art class at school and how I had taken up spray painting and I was actually pretty good.

I seemed to tell him everything and nothing at the same time. And then it was time to go and all he had done the whole visit was stare at me.

Back in the car, Abuela was silent for the first few minutes while I stared out of the window and tried to think of the reasons I had decided to stay in Ohio. Sometimes it was difficult to remember.

"So, how'd it go?" She asked me eventually. I shrugged. "What did you talk about?"

"Nothing really," I sighed. "New York and school."

"That's nice. I'm sure he was interested in what you've been up to." Abuela smiled and turned on her blinker as we reached a stop sign.

"Maybe. I don't think he really wants to talk to me." I wanted to say how I thought he was kind of happy to be in jail because then he didn't have to worry about me. But how could I say that, and how could I say it to Abuela?

"I'm sure he just wanted to listen to what you had to say."

"All I had to talk about was Santana. And Brittany." I sighed out and watched as my breath hit the window, fogging up the glass, clouding my view to the outside and making something inside me yank tighter and tighter. Everything felt clouded.

Abuela cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Listen, Cass. There are some things I need to say."

I turned to look at her and she glanced at me quickly before shifting her eyes back to the road. "Santana and I never really had a great relationship, okay? And when I found out what she had been doing with that… girl," Abuela grimaced, "I obviously was upset. And I didn't give her a chance to explain."

"To explain what?" I asked.

"To explain herself." I looked at her, confused, and she kept talking. "Just herself. I didn't really know who my daughter was. After I kicked her out, I thought she might come back and we could work it out. I thought maybe I could understand. But I don't understand at all and I think it's too late for me to understand. We were both very stubborn."

I stared at her. "You wouldn't have changed if she came back. Otherwise you would've made an effort after she left. Don't blame this on her."

"I'm not blaming anything on her. I know it's my fault. If I had tried to… understand, then I could've helped her." Abuela gestured awkwardly with her hands. "I wasn't a good mother. I gave up on her when she needed help the most. Now she's too far."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "New York isn't that far."

Abuela smiled sadly at me. "That's not what I meant."

"You think that you being there for her would've changed who she is? Abuela. _She can't change who she is_."

"You're too young to understand." Abuela shook her head."You will know when you're older."

I felt anger flare up inside me. "No. I don't think I will. Santana doesn't have to change for me."

"When you have a daughter – "

"No!" I glared at her, hot anger coursing to my cheeks. "Fuck that. I'm so tired of this family fucking everything up because life isn't going how they want it to."

"Cassandra Velasquez! Don't you dare speak to me that way!"

"Stop the car." My voice evened out coldly.

"What?"

"STOP THE CAR!" Abuela carefully pulled over to the side of the road. We were just a few blocks from her house. I grabbed my backpack from the floor of the car and opened the door.

"Cassandra, get back in this car."

I slammed the door shut and started briskly walking away from the car. It idled behind me and I walked until I couldn't hear it anymore.

I was so sick of people trying to force people to live up to their expectations. People shouldn't be the things that have to change. Expectations are the things that should.

I stomped angrily down the street for a few minutes, soaking the bottoms of my jeans in the snow that still layered the ground. My backpack was heavy on my back, so I took my camera out of it before slinging it back over my shoulders. I hung it around my neck, not trusting my hands that were becoming number by the second as the cold sank into my bones. I didn't want to drop it in the snow.

As I walked I became angrier. Why could things in my life never be easy? There was never a moment to rest, to gather my energy to fight again. I was getting so tired. I felt tears spring up in my eyes, stinging as they mixed with the frosty air.

It was difficult to dial the number with my numb fingers, but in just a few seconds, my phone was pressed to my ear and ringing.

"Hello?" A voice said after the third ring. "Cass?"

I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice neutral. "John?"

"Cass! Hey!" He sounded so excited to hear me. The noose on my heart loosened.

"What's going on?" I asked as I entered the park down from Abuela's street.

"Nothing, just eating food. Doing English homework. What's up with you? How's Ohio? How's your grandma?"

His enthusiasm cracked something within me and a sob broke from my chest. "Not that great."

There was a pause. "Are you crying?"

"No," I said weakly, because it was obvious that I was.

"Do you want to talk about it?" John asked hesitantly.

I sniffled. "Not really. Could you just… talk to me?"

"Duh." I could hear the smile in his voice. I sat down on a bench in the park and tried not to shiver. "What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything. Gym. Tell me about Ms. Pierce."

"Hmmm," he mumbled. "Oh! She got a haircut! It's still pretty long, but it's nice. Really pretty and stuff."

I laughed. "You think Ms. Pierce is hot."

"Who _doesn't _think she's hot, dude?"

Smiling, I felt my anger start to fade. "True."

"Also, her Broadway show started and she's super tired a lot. She let us have… wait for it… _free time_. And we didn't have to run laps!"

"WHAT!" I exclaimed in mock outrage.

"I KNOW!"

I laughed and looked around the park. Calling John had been a good idea. He continued to talk about his classes and some recent drama between Mel and Taylor involving paint and Mel's dad's shower. I will do you the common courtesy of not repeating it. Trust me, you don't want to know.

As he talked, I looked at a tree in front of me. It was different than the rest of the trees in the park. Bigger and thicker, it stood all on its own. Its branches were slouching slightly under the weight of the snow that dripped down the trunk in thick droplets, like the heavy paint I sometimes mixed together in art class.

It looked cold. Can trees feel cold? I imagined the branches shaking free of the snow and wrapping around the trunk, holding itself in protection from the winter.

I brought my camera up to my eye and after a second of struggling to push the capture button in the cold, heard the telltale _click_ of success.

"You still there?" John's voice came through the line, gruff but soft all at once.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Oh good. Thought I was boring you for a second there."

I smiled weakly. "No I just like listening to you talk. It makes me feel..." I trailed off.

"Makes you feel what?" "It just makes me feel." My voice faltered slightly. I wished vulnerability didn't make me feel so… scared. And also so… safe? I was confused.

There was silence for a minute, with only the sound of John and me breathing trickling through the line. "I really miss you, Cass," he said eventually.

I swallowed. "I really miss you, too. I'm um. I don't know when, but I'm going to come visit you. Someday."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I should go, though."

"Okay. Call again soon?"

"Yeah definitely. Thanks for making me feel better."

His voice was unbearably gentle when he replied. "Of course."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye Cass."

I hung up and started to walk the opposite direction of Abuela's house. I needed more envelopes. And even more, I needed to get a picture developed.

* * *

><p><strong>Week Four<strong>

"I want to fix things."

I was sitting in the jail, in that tense room that stole the air from my lungs and all the things I wanted to say from my mind. Dad stared at me from across the table.

"I'm tired of this. I came back to Ohio to fix things between us."

"There's nothing to fix, Cass." Dad leaned forward slightly. "I'm in here for at least half a year."

I scrunched my nose. "Thought it was a few months?"

He shook his head. "There's some stuff they didn't tell you." I opened my mouth to ask, but he cut me off. "It's just better that you don't worry about it, okay?"

I sighed. This was why our family had problems. But whatever. "Fine. But I can still visit you and then we can work on it when you get out. I'm tired of our family being broken. Ever since Mom died, everything went to shit. I want to make it better."

"Cass…"

"I know that you think things can't get better, but they can. I've seen how good family can be. And we were good once. You're my _dad_, I need things to be okay." I could feel myself getting choked up. "You can go to rehab or something. And my grades are a lot better now and I'm not so screwed up anymore. We can do this."

After a second he sighed. "I know I haven't been a great father to you, Cass."

I shrugged. "You were good at one time."

He smiled apologetically. "Maybe. You deserve better."

"I don't want better. You're my dad. We don't get to choose family, we just get to choose how we act toward our family."

Dad was quiet for a moment. "You're different," he said, hoarsely. I shrugged. "Santana did this to you?"

I stiffened. "She didn't do anything to me."

He nodded. "Okay."

There was a long pause while we stared at each other. "So," I said eventually. "When you get out, we'll work on us being a normal family again."

At that moment, the guard stepped forward. I had to go.

"Come back on Monday. We'll talk some more, okay?" Dad smiled at me slightly.

"Okay." I stood up. "I'll see you then."

* * *

><p>Wednesdays in Ohio were the worst. Wednesdays meant long periods and if there was one thing I loathed more than anything, it was a double period of gym.<p>

What I didn't realize was that Wednesday was also the day when all the athletes itched with too much energy, stuck in the lull between Friday night games. After lunch was a prime time to prey on the weak.

I was standing at my locker, switching out my books for chem and art, when a loud laugh echoed off the walls. I turned around and saw that stupid meat head who tried to slushie me sauntering down the hall toward me.

No. Not toward me. Toward the person across the hall from me.

Beau had his head halfway in his locker, his arm frantically searching for something.

"Hey faggot." The wrestler leaned against the locker next to Beau, who warily looked up at the guy. It struck me again how tiny he was. Unconsciously, I took a step in their direction.

"I've told you a million times, Kyle, the word faggot doesn't turn me on and if you want to get in my pants, you'll have to try another tactic."

The meat head snarled. "Watch yourself, Beauregard."

Beau smiled. "Ooh, my name sounds so sexy in your mouth. Say it again."

I cringed. What was Beau doing? He was speaking? And taunting his attacker. Something inside me trembled.

Kyle suddenly stood up to his full height, puffing out his chest menacingly. "Listen here. Shut your fat mouth before I knock your teeth out." He lifted his arm threateningly.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stepped forward. "Hey Kyle, I know that your inability to get on _this_ must have shrunk your dick two sizes, but taking it out on him won't compensate for that."

Meat Head's eyes slid toward me. Then he barked out a laugh. "So you need your girlfriend to fight for you, that right Tiny Tim?"

"Tiny Tim?" I smirked. "That's all you've got asshole? Small dick _and _a small brain? Man, your daddy must have given you _nothing._ Got everything from your mommy? Including those boobs of yours." I stuck out my finger and jabbed him in the chest.

Kyle's face stone-walled. Beau tensed beside me. "Stop Cass," he mumbled.

"No," Kyle cut him off. "You got something to say, bitch?"

"Fuck off." I stood as tall as I could, which wasn't tall at all, but admittedly was taller than Beau.

Kyle's hand suddenly struck out, slamming against Beau's locker. The sound reverberated in my chest. A classroom door opened down the hall and Kyle stormed off.

Everything felt electric, a blue that buzzed from toes to my ears. I took a deep breath as a teacher walked up. He looked between the locker and Beau before a look of disappointment came over his face, as if he was too late to save the day. He ran a hand through his slick, curly hair.

"Is there a problem? What's going on?"

"Nothing, Mr. Schue," Beau sighed. "Just some locker malfunctions."

I looked at his locker and felt myself cringe again. There was a dent in the center and the hinges had bent from the impact of Kyle's fist.

Mr. Shue sighed. "Again Beau?" Beau nodded. "Alright. Let's go talk to Principal Figgins." He put a protective arm around Beau's shoulders and I quirked my eyebrows.

"Umm."

"I'm Mr. Schuester, by the way," he said to me.

"Hi."

"Thanks for helping out. You'd be surprised how many times this has happened…"

"Schue," Beau whined. "You're not supposed to discuss this stuff. It's like, confidential."

"Oh, right." He scratched the top of his head. "You like to sing?"

"No," I deadpanned.

"Oh. Well, you should think about joining Glee Club!"

"No thanks." That sounded supremely unappealing.

"Well if you change your mind, talk to Beau here. He's our captain!"

Beau grimaced. "Come on, Mr. Schue. I have class."

"Sure thing!" He smiled kindly at me. Ew. "Nice to meet you! You really should think about Glee Club."

"Umm. Sure."

As they walked away, I realized the hallway had emptied. My locker was still open across the hall and Beau's hung awkwardly on its hinges in front of me. A crumpling feeling invaded my chest and I suddenly missed John and Brittany being at school with me so much that my lungs felt heavy. My hands shook and my chest felt smothered.

_Breathe,_ I thought. _Breathe._

I walked to my locker and grabbed my camera. Dazedly, I snapped a picture of the row of lockers, with Beau's on the end. They looked so similar to the ones in New York.

I imagined walking out the doors, down a few blocks. I buzzed myself in, set my backpack by the door. Settled into the couch. Flicked on the TV. Jersey Shore filled the room. "_Cass_," you said. "_How was school?_"

But I wasn't in New York. I couldn't gently ease into your side on the couch. You couldn't make me feel better with some snide remark about The Situation's abs.

All I could do was send you the picture and hope you'd get that even though I had no words to say to you, I missed you an immeasurable amount.

* * *

><p><strong>Week Five<strong>

Sometimes when the moon is full I think about my mom. She always said that the full moon brings out the demons inside of us. I don't know if that's true, but the night I took my pregnancy test, the full moon splattered light on the tile in my bathroom, washing out the walls and filling my chest like smoke.

Sometimes I can see her so clearly that I forget for a moment that she's gone. And other times I can hardly remember her face. I try to picture it, but all I see is the brown of her hair and a vague blur of facial features.

The times I see her most clearly are the nights when I'm lying in bed and the full moon shines through my window. I can hear her voice in my head, whispering. _Out comes the cowboy, out comes the sea man. Out comes the moon, out comes the demons. They live behind your eyes, come out at the full moon. Listen to your heart, they'll be shadows soon. When the sun comes up, they'll crawl away. Nothing can scare you, in the light of the day._

She used to sing it to herself when the moon was inching its way up a ladder of stars until it sat watch over our house like a vigilant Doberman. I always thought the song was misleading. Night can hide the things that we fear, but the daylight exposes them.

In the light, everything we thought we could escape is revealed.

I try not to think about it, but once a month, the full moon brings a high tide that washes away any sandcastles on the beach, no matter how big they are or how long we spent building them.

* * *

><p>It's so strange how things that shouldn't be familiar can become normal to us if we're exposed to them often enough. Like funeral home directors, who see death and corpses on a daily basis. And soldiers, who understand the practicality of war. And me, feeling comfortable sitting in a prison.<p>

I didn't mind the hard chair beneath me, or the cool of the table under my palms. Dad almost looked good in orange.

"Hey, Cass."

"Hi, Dad."

He coughed awkwardly and sighed. "We don't have much time today. My visiting time got cut short."

I wondered why, but didn't ask. "Okay."

Dad ran a hand through his scruffy beard. "I was thinking about what you said last week."

A feeling of apprehension swelled inside me. "Okay…"

"I don't think you should stay here," Dad said.

I stared at him. "What?"

"You shouldn't stay in Ohio."

"You don't get to choose that." My fingers clenched in my lap.

He nodded. "You're right, I don't. But if I were you, I'd go back to New York."

"I thought we were going to try and fix things," I said. I felt my jaw tighten. Who was he to tell me what was best? He hadn't been around for years. He hadn't looked out for me. Fuck that.

"I love you, Cass. You will always be my daughter and I know that I haven't been what you wanted in a father, but I'm trying now. And I know it's not what you want, but you can't stay here."

"Like hell I can't," I snarled.

"Cass," he sighed. "Do you really think you're going to get what you need here? Do you think your grandma is going to help you go where _you_ want to go in life?"

"I…" I faltered. "I don't need her. I can do things by myself."

"I know you can. But you don't have to."

"What do you mean?"

He leaned forward, his chin jutting defiantly. "I love you, but someone else loves you, too. And she can give you so much more than I can. Is this what you want? A dad who's in jail, a grandma who disowns people when they need her the most?"

"I don't –"

"You've changed. You're not the same girl. I know you've been through a lot, but I know that going to New York changed you. It helped you. Don't try to argue."

"Dad –"

"Just listen for one second!" He yelled. I closed my mouth.

"I don't know your aunt very well. We've met exactly two times. But I know for a fact she has your best interests at heart. I don't care about anything about her. I don't give a fuck who she's married to or what her job is. All I know is that she cares about you and from what you've told me, I can tell you care about her too." He shook his head. "You can stay in Ohio if you want, and I'll make an effort when I get out. But I can't promise I'll be better. I want to say that I will, but it wouldn't be fair to promise anything. You should go back to New York. You'd be happier there."

I felt tears spring to my eyes. "But you're my dad."

"She's your aunt," he replied.

"It's not the same," I argued.

"It's _better_," Dad said. "Family is family. And she's family you can't afford to lose."

* * *

><p><em>Pick up, pick up, pick up<em>.

"_Holly Holiday speaking."_

I cleared my throat. "Ms. Holiday?"

"_You got it, sweet cheeks."_

"It's Cassandra Velasquez," I squeaked. "Santana Lopez's niece."

A short laugh trickled through the line. _"Hey girl hey. How's Ohio treating you? Wait, you're not calling from jail are you? You don't need me to bail you out right?"_

"Ummm," I said. "No?"

"_Wouldn't be the first time."_

"Oh. Okay…" I took a deep breath. "I was wondering if it would be possible for me to go back to New York. To live with Santana again, I mean."

"_To go back to New York?" _There was a short pause. _"I don't know if I can swing that so soon, chickadee."_

My chest caved in a little at the thought. "Please Ms. Holiday, I'll do anything," I begged.

Holly hummed. _"Let me make a few calls and get back to you, okay_?"

"Okay." I let out a disheartened groan. What if I was stuck in Ohio? Now that I could almost feel New York on my fingertips, I didn't want it to slip between them.

"_Don't sound so down, girl! You have your whole life ahead of you and a mid-life crisis to look forward to. Now is not the time to feel down!"_

"Right," I smiled a little. "Please just let me know."

"_Sure thing."_

A couple hours later, my phone rang and I answered nervously.

"_Good news, babe. It's all taken care of!"_

I breathed a sigh of relief. "I can go back to New York?"

"_I got it worked out for you. It's all good."_

I laughed happily. "Thanks so much, Holly. Can I call you Holly?"

"_I thought you'd never ask."_

"You don't know how much I appreciate this."

"_Call me anytime you need anything. Your aunt and I go way back."_

"Okay, I will. Thanks so much."

I hung up the phone and booked a ticket to New York for Wednesday. I would've done it for the next day, but there were a few things I needed to do first.

* * *

><p>"Abuela, I'm leaving."<p>

"Where are you going?" Abuela absentmindedly turned the page of the newspaper.

"New York."

She looked up. "What?"

I crossed my arms and shifted from foot to foot. "I'm done here. I'm moving back with Santana. I already called her lawyer. Everything is all worked out."

She stared at me, expressionless. "You're going back to New York."

"Yes," I said defiantly.

She pursed her lips. "I can't let you make such – "

"Yes you can," I said. "Let me go. I know you're trying to do what's best for me, but staying here isn't best for me."

"What about your dad?"

"He wants me to go."

She shook her head. "You're being irrational, Cassandra."

"No, Abuela, I'm really not." I looked her in the eyes. "Just let me go. If you feel even an inch of remorse or guilt for abandoning me when I had the abortion," Abuela grimaced. "Or for kicking Santana out when she needed you, you'll just let me go."

Abuela sat motionless. Then she clenched her jaw. "You don't understand."

I rolled my eyes. "You're right. I really don't."

"Fine. Go then. If you think you're any better than me, you're wrong."

I stiffened. "Grow up, Abuela. We've all dealt with difficult things. I'm choosing to move past them. If you're tired of people abandoning you, then quit pushing them away."

"You think you've got me figured out, Cassandra, and you just don't."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Do you even have _yourself_ figured out?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't."

I huffed. "I'm leaving Wednesday morning."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Then I spun on my heel and left the room.

* * *

><p>I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. Adrenaline rushed through my legs. My face felt hot.<p>

I could finally see the appeal of this.

I marched up to my locker and stuffed my backpack and all of my belongings inside, including my NYU sweatshirt. Just as I was about to close it, a massive shadow appeared in front of me.

"Oh, hey, Kyle. I was just looking for you."

He smirked. "Me too."

"Cass!" I heard Beau's voice from across the hall.

"Whoops," Kyle said. A wave of cold washed over me. It took a moment to sink in, but then my eyes began to water, stinging painfully as icy blue syrup dripped down my face.

Frantically, I wiped the crystals from my eyes and picked up the cup I had set in my locker. Then I flung it in Kyle's direction. I could barely see, but thankfully heard a girlish shriek and knew I had hit my mark.

I grinned, despite the pain in my eyes and the cold liquid slipping down my shirt. "Fuck you, asshole," I said. "Have a taste of your own medicine. Literally. I put cough syrup in that. Tastes good, I bet."

"I will fuck you up, you fucking slut."

I laughed. "I don't think so."

The hulking shape in front of me slammed a locker before being dragged away. I shivered and pushed more slushie out of my face. Hmmm. Blue raspberry. It really didn't taste too awful. I felt a hand grab my arm and push me down the hall.

"That was awesome," Beau grunted as he shoved paper towels in my hands. "Sorry you got hit, though."

I shrugged and dried my face, thankful that I could see fully again, even if my eyes still stung. "It was worth it."

"You better watch out," Beau said and his face was finally clear as I blinked the last of the syrup away. His boyish face was full of excitement. "He's going to come at you twice as hard now."

I shook my head. "Today is my last day."

"You're leaving?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Beau bit his lip. "Crap."

Suddenly I realized something. "Shoot. I didn't make things worse for you did I?"

He shrugged. "It's fine. Can't get much worse. I just…" He seemed to steal himself, then he leaned forward. I felt his lips press into my cold ones. I pulled back quickly.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes widened. "Sorry. Sorry, I just. Sorry."

"I just told you I'm leaving!" I exclaimed. "And I thought you were gay!"

He glared. "Why, because Kyle said so?"

I froze. "I…"

"It's fine." He shook his head. "I'm not gay."

"I have a boyfriend," I said.

"You do?"

I laughed awkwardly. "Kind of." Not really. But kind of? Maybe? John felt like more than a friend to me.

Beau reached out with a clean paper towel and cleaned off my forehead. "Well. He's a lucky guy then. Not many girls would stick up for a Glee loser like me."

"Being in Glee doesn't make you a loser," I told him. "Be bigger than you appear."

He shrugged but nodded. "I try." He looked at me awkwardly. "Sorry again. And thanks for the other day. I forgot to thank you."

"It's no big deal. Just make sure that ape gets what's coming for him when I'm gone."

Beau smiled and held out his hand. "I'll do my best. It was a pleasure to have known you."

I rolled my eyes at his formal tone and shook his hand. "And you as well."

"Good luck wherever you're going."

"New York," I smiled. "I'm going to New York."

* * *

><p>"Well," I said awkwardly. "Thanks for the ride." I looked around the airport and gripped my bag harder.<p>

Abuela shrugged. "I wasn't going to let you taxi."

"Right," I said. "Well thanks." I looked at the time on my phone. "I should go, I guess."

"Okay," Abuela pursed her lips. "I guess just call me if you need anything."

"Okay. I'll be fine with Santana, though."

"I know you will."

"You do?" I asked incredulously.

People rushed past us. The loudspeaker called someone's name. Abuela sighed. "I know Santana is a good girl. In another life, it might have worked out between us."

I rolled my eyes. "It could still work out, Abuela, Jesus. All you have to do is try."

She shook her head sadly. "Be safe in New York, Cass."

"Abuela. Come on."

"I'm letting you go. You should let this go, too."

I closed my eyes, my patience running out. "I really don't get you, Abuela."

"I know," she said. "You're going to miss your flight."

I hitched my bag on my back. "Right." I cleared my throat. "Bye then."

Abuela put her hand on my shoulder. "Goodbye Cass."

Then I turned around and made my way through security. I would never understand that woman.

* * *

><p>The closer I got to New York, the more the feeling in my chest tightened. I should have asked if I could come back.<p>

A knot lodged itself my throat as I caught a taxi and told the driver your address. Hell, I should've at least called.

My body trembled as I stepped into the rain and buzzed myself in. You were going to throw me out. What was I thinking?

Everything in me tensed as I knocked on the door. Years of uncertainty clogged my arteries and a thousand rejections filled my lungs. I couldn't breathe.

And then the door opened and everything changed. I saw sandcastles and riverlilies. Knots all over the world unraveled and demons crawled back to their hiding places.

"Cass?"

Suddenly everything felt like it would be okay, like I was finally in the place I was supposed to be.

"Hey Tía."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hi readers. So. I know it's been almost nine months since I last updated. I realize this is a ridiculous amount of time. Of course, life is always getting in the way, but I try to make time to write. Unfortunately real life came at me in the biggest of ways shortly after my last update and this past month, I have just now been able to get back to the basics. Starting Thursday, I will officially be on summer break and I definitely plan on finishing this up this summer. I PROMISE it won't be long before I update again. Thanks for those readers who reminded me they were still waiting for my updates and hadn't given up on Cass. She is my baby and I will do her (and all of you) justice by seeing her through til the end. No worries. And to all my recent subscribers, I don't know how you found my little story, lost as it's been, but thanks, and I hope you guys liked this, I spent like two months trying to get it out. Special thanks as always to Carola who takes time out of her very busy schedule to look over my drafts and make them shine the way they deserve. Okay. See you soon.


	32. Hope

Waking up felt like a dream. The first rays of spring pushed their way through my curtains. My fingers curled and uncurled into my comforter. I was back in New York. I was _home_.

I groaned and rolled over; remembering the way Brittany had reacted the night before. I had never really seen her angry, and to be honest, I'd expected that type of reaction from you, Tía, not her. But I guess that's why life is so confusing. People never act the way you think they will.

I pushed myself up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Brittany would be getting ready for the day. Maybe I could fix things before she left, or at least find out what her deal was.

I got out of bed and pulled on some sweat pants before heading out of my room. The sound of the fridge opening and closing made me falter in my steps. Britt had been really mad. Maybe I should deal with the situation later?

No, I thought. I needed to face her now, when I had her to myself.

I stepped into the kitchen and saw Brittany cracking eggs in a bowl. She didn't notice me so I sat down at the table and tried to think of something to say.

She jumped when she turned around to put the eggs away. "Jesus, Cass." She put a hand on her chest. "You scared me."

"Sorry," I said meekly, inwardly grimacing because the situation was already awkward and difficult enough. I watched as Brittany shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth. My stomach clenched with tension. She sighed and opened her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it.

"I'm sorry, Britt."

Brittany's face hardened into a mask. It looked weird and really forced, like she was channeling you or Abuela. "Stop, Cass."

I felt my heart sink. "Please listen to me, Britt. Just hear me out."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm, like, _angry_. Really mad at you."

"I said I was sorry," I pleaded.

Brittany turned around and reached up in the cabinets to get a plate, effectively ignoring me. Somehow her anger felt icier than yours ever does, Tía.

"Please, Britt."

I made my voice extra whiny and sad, using everything I could to my advantage. Britt's a sucker for a sob story. "I'm really sorry."

Brittany turned around and leaned against the counter, defeated. I saw some tension leave her shoulders. "Look, Cass. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react so…" She gestured awkwardly with her hands. "I got caught up in the moment. I was just really surprised. I expected to come home to Santana and pizza and instead, there you were."

"I know, I feel really shitty," I rushed out. "I should've called."

Brittany smiled bitterly. "Yeah, that probably would've been a smart decision." She shook her head again and poured the eggs into a frying a pan on the stove. "I'm not… that was really rash of me to say you can't stay here. You can. I just… you really hurt Santana, Cass."

I grimaced. How much had I hurt you, Tía? You'd never tell me. "I know, I'm really stupid."

"You're not stupid. You made a decision based on what you needed to do, and that's really good. You're going to have to make hard choices like that all your life. You just have to realize the consequences of your actions."

I knew that. I did. I still felt so awful. "I do. I feel so bad."

Britt poured some coffee in a mug and handed it to me with a shrug. I wrapped my hands around it tightly. "Santana will forgive you, don't worry."

"I know. But what about you?" I looked at her steadily, searching for any sign that her anger was melting away. Brittany wouldn't look at me and instead started scrambling the eggs in the frying pan.

"I just don't get it," she said after a minute. "Why did you leave?"

Why did I leave? I guess I was searching for something. Had I found it? I thought so. Or at least I hoped so.

Wasn't I looking for reassurance that I had done everything possible to be different than the rest of my family? That I was better than the abandonment and the teen pregnancies and everything shitty I had known about family until I met you and Brittany?

"It's hard to explain," I said.

"Well, I'm not stupid so try," Brittany snapped. I recoiled slightly.

I tried to put it in the simplest of terms. "Your family isn't like ours, okay? Sure, maybe your dad is a little uptight, but he loves you. Santana and I, we don't have people who care about what we do with our lives."

Brittany shook her head and stared back at me heavily, her blue eyes reflecting ice, but harboring something deeper. Something warmer. "Santana cares about you. If what you're saying is true, then what's the point of leaving someone who loves you?"

I sighed, exasperated. "I made a mistake, Britt. I thought I could mend what I had with my dad, alright?"

She crossed her arms. "Why are you back?"

"It doesn't matter," I pushed. "I fucked things up."

Brittany gave me a look. "Cass. Language." I shrugged. "It matters," she said.

"No, what matters is how much I fucked it up with Santana." Had I ruined everything? How much had I hurt you? And how much had I hurt Brittany? I learned that my dad cared about me, and I learned that I can make my own decisions about how I want to live my life. But in the process of that had I screwed everything up that I had going for me?

"Well what about me, Cass?" Brittany asked.

"What about you?"

I watched, confused, as she turned off the stove and transferred the eggs to a plate. Then she turned around and met my eyes. In that second, the iciness in Brittany's eyes cracked.

"You didn't even say goodbye."

Brittany gasped out a breath and I instinctively took a step forward. Her hands gripped the counter behind her and I stopped in my tracks. _I hadn't even said goodbye_. I thought about the moment in that stupid conference room when I decided to stay in Ohio and how I didn't know _how_ to say goodbye.

"I didn't think I'd be able to leave if I did," I choked out.

"So, what you think avoiding it makes it any better?"

"No, Britt."

"I thought you were coming home. You were supposed to come home." Tears pushed their way down Brittany's cheeks and she wiped at them carefully.

My heart broke a little bit at the sight. "Britt."

"I thought… you really…" She looked away from me and her hand rubbed at the back of her neck, frustrated. "I haven't felt like this since Lord Tubbington died. And like, you're not a cat and you don't have feline AIDS and I'm pretty sure he's up there with Jesus so it's okay. But it just feels like that moment when you're going down the stairs and you think there's one more step but there isn't so your foot gets all jarred against the floor and it feels like your stomach is pushing itself up your chest."

Brittany finally looked back at me and I stepped closer, knowing exactly the feeling she described even though I had no idea what the hell feline AIDS was. My stomach clenched at the thought that I had made Britt feel like that. It was my fault.

I said the only thing that I knew was true and that didn't feel like I was making excuses. Britt was right; I had to own up to the consequences of my actions, even if there were good reasons for them. "I really missed you, B."

"Yeah," Brittany sighed and slumped in defeat. "I really missed you too."

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her stomach. Hers fell around my shoulders and I squeezed really super tight. "I'm so sorry I hurt you," I said into her chest. I had never meant to hurt anyone. I was just trying to figure my life out. I think Brittany knew that too. She squeezed back just as hard.

She sighed and I felt her breath on the top of my head. "Just… just don't leave again, alright?"

I nodded frantically and took a step back. Brittany rolled her eyes and wiped the last of the wetness from her cheeks. Then she picked up the plate of eggs on the counter and handed them to me. I accepted the peace offering with a small smile.

As I sat down to eat them, I heard quiet groaning. Then I remembered you'd slept on the couch last night. I looked over at Brittany who had frozen with her hand on the fridge. She glanced at me with an amused, but guilty smile. I moved to look into the hall where you were trying to stealthily sneak back into your room.

"Santana," Brittany said to get your attention.

You grumbled and whipped around before going on a rant about having to sleep on the couch. Then you slunk off back to bed. I snorted and returned to my eggs. You are the biggest baby sometimes, Tía.

"Whoops," Brittany giggled to herself. "Think she's really mad?"

I laughed. "She can't stay mad at you, trust me."

Brittany gave a sly smile. "Oh, I know."

I shook my head and tried not to lose my appetite because, like, ew, love. "Hey, Britt," I said after swallowing some more egggs. "Can you help me get set up again at school?"

"I guess so," she said and sat down across from me at the table with a cup of coffee. "You're ready to go back?"

I nodded. "I have this idea for my art project…"

Brittany smiled. "It's about time."

"Shut up."

Brittany shrugged and got up to get ready for the day. I finished my eggs and did the same. For once, I was eager to get back to school.

* * *

><p>"So, really, why are you back?" Brittany asked on our way to school.<p>

I shrugged, my backpack heavy on my shoulders with all of my books. "To be honest, my dad suggested I come back."

Brittany glanced at me carefully. "Was it bad there?"

"Not really," I sighed. "I mean, it wasn't good. But it wasn't, like, horrible. My dad…" I stopped talking and tried to think of a good way to explain. "You know when you're going down the stairs and you think there's one more step but there isn't so your foot gets all jarred against the floor and it feels like your stomach is pushing itself up your chest?" Brittany smirked and nodded. "Well that's what being there felt like. And my dad, I think he knew that. He wants me to be better so he told me that Santana could take care of me because he could tell that I was way happier here."

"So you came back. Just like that?"

I shrugged again. "Basically. I guess, deep down, I kind of knew it would work out that way. I just had to see for myself. Plus," I said. "I was going to come back here for college anyway."

"Well, that's good," Britt replied. "I think Santana has an account set up for you. I might try to pitch in. You could really go somewhere great. The world needs to see how awesome you are."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop, B."

She looked at me seriously. "I'm not kidding, dork."

"You're the dork," I said, heat creeping into my cheeks.

"Pretty much," Brittany said with a goofy smile. "Come on, let's get you settled."

We walked into the school and Brittany talked to the administrators and explained everything and how we lived together. I was a little surprised at that, but the administrators really like Brittany (obviously because everybody likes Brittany), so they let all the paperwork go through and soon I was back in all of my classes as if nothing had changed.

Brittany turned to me after everything was settled and patted me on the shoulder. "See you in gym, Cass!" I inwardly groaned and made my way back to my new-old locker. I was spinning the dial when the bell for the end of first period rang and kids started to flood the hallways. Opening my locker, I heard a loud and embarrassing shriek.

"CASS?!"

I whipped around to see John Crater towering over me, his mouth open in shock. "Hey," I said nonchalantly.

"YOU'RE BACK?!"

I tried to keep a straight face, but I felt a tiny smile peeking through. "Yep."

"HOW? WHY? YOU'RE HERE! HOW?"

I laughed. "Please stop screaming."

He rushed forward and squeezed me to his chest, my arms awkwardly getting caught in between us in surprise. "THIS IS THE BEST!"

I pushed back and looked at the excitement on his face, laughing at his glasses which were sliding down his nose and his hair which never seemed to stay styled.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," he said back. "Are you really here? Like forever and stuff?"

I nodded. "Yeah I really am."

"How come?"

"Because I missed you, obviously." I didn't really want to get into the full extent of the ordeal with my dad right then in the middle of the hallway.

John's smile was huge. It felt so good to see him. "I missed you too," he said. "Like, so much."

"Where's Mel?"

John rolled his eyes. "She's actually home sick today. I think she might have mono." He grabbed my hands in front of him. "Do we still have gym together?"

I nodded and stared at my fingers, carefully intertwined with his. "Yeah."

"Awesome," he said and it felt like he was talking about something else.

I nodded. "It really is."

* * *

><p>As soon as I got to art I started to explain to Ms. Baker the idea I had while I was on the plane back to New York. She wasn't too impressed with my absence and she told me I was going to have to work my ass off to get caught up, but she didn't seem too mad that I was back in her class.<p>

I sat down in the back at a table all to myself and took out my sketchpad to start drawing some ideas I had for the "New York" aspect of my comparison.

It felt good to feel the pencil between my fingers again. I absentmindedly guided my fingers over the page, adding smaller details as I envisioned them in my mind. I thought about everything. About my dad and Abuela, about you and Brittany, about Crater. I thought about art and college and spray painting.

I thought about how I wouldn't have much time for spray painting until summer at least. I had a lot of catching up to do. Somehow, I didn't mind all that much. The feeling I got when I was out on the street filled me up in that moment. I realized it had more to do with being at ease with myself than it had to do with location or what I was doing.

And finally being at ease with myself, finally coming to terms with who I was and the things I'd done, was the best thing that had happened to me in months.

* * *

><p>Shortly after returning to New York, I got a call from my dad. He was checking in on me and making sure that you had taken me back. I reassured him that we were family, Tía, that you didn't care how badly my leaving had sucked for you, and that you would always be there for me.<p>

I think that reality struck him as strange. Even though he suggested that I come back, it probably didn't seem like things would be okay. I know that feeling. It's hard to accept that things can get good when all you've really known until that point was bad, you know?

We still talk sometimes. I make it a point to call him at least once a month, sometimes more, just to see how he's doing. He's out of jail now, you know. He's working as a mechanic. After he got out, the first thing he told me was that I better stay where I was in New York. I guess that's okay. Maybe our relationship works best long distance.

I've come to learn that putting your best interests above others doesn't mean that you love them any less.

* * *

><p>So, I know this a really long story of why you mean the world to me, and I'm definitely not going to read this as your maid of honor speech, but I hope you don't mind if I just finish it, Tía. I'm not sure you'll ever read this, but it's summer and I have nothing else to do and it feels really great to just write all of this stuff out.<p>

Anyway, after the first week that I came back to New York, something happened that I _do_ want to put into my speech somehow. I don't know if you remember it, or if it seemed as big to you as it did to me, but I remember this time that sums up yours and Brittany's relationship basically perfectly.

It was a Monday night and you didn't have to work which was nice, and Brittany had the night off, too, so we planned on having dinner together. You had gone to the gym and Brittany had gone to the store and was starting to make a dinner of chicken and sautéed vegetables.

I was sitting at the kitchen table working on some math homework, becoming more and more frustrated by the second because I wasn't very good at trigonometry.

"Why don't you take a break and help me cook some of this stuff?" Brittany glanced at me quickly as she finished dicing an onion.

"Okay," I said and bit my lip in concentration. "After I finish this problem."

I heard sizzling as Brittany added the onions to the pan on the stove. The door opened and you walked in all sweaty and panting.

"Smells good in here." You smiled at Brittany and took off your tennis shoes.

Brittany beamed back at you. I rolled my eyes and looked back down at my textbook. "Thanks," she said. "Go take a shower and it'll be ready when you're done."

You disappeared into the bathroom as Brittany added some peppers to the onions on the stove. I plugged some numbers into my calculator, violently pressing the sine button and watching as ERROR popped up on the screen. Stupid sine. I should've taken that as a _sign_ that I should've just quit then and there. Haha sign, Tía, get it? Oh God I crack myself up.

(What Tía, I'm hilarious okay?)

Anyway. I circled the problem to ask my teacher about the next day and closed my textbook with a satisfying _thunk_.

"I'm just going to put this stuff away and I'll be right back," I told Brittany.

"Okay, it's basically done anyway. Tell Santana, will you?" She took the chicken out of the oven and placed the pan on the counter.

"Sure thing."

I dropped my backpack off in my room and made my way to your room where the door was open a crack. I pushed it open some more. "Tía, dinner is ready."

"Jesus, don't you knock!" You whipped around and glared at me, your hand on your hip, as if I would find that menacing. Right. You were in your underwear, Tía. Like I would be frightened by a half-naked woman who can't even bring herself to punish me for anything and who turns to mush whenever her girlfriend smiles at her.

I ignored you. "Dinner is ready. Put some damn clothes on and come on. I'm hungry."

You rolled your eyes and pulled a t-shirt over your head. "Watch your mouth."

"Whatever."

You slipped some shorts up your legs and were pulling your hair into a ponytail when you froze. "Do you… do you smell that?"

I took a second to breathe, sniffing the air heavily, and felt a bitter taste in my throat. Like something was –

At that second, the smoke alarm in the kitchen started blaring. "Shit," you hissed and pushed past me, bounding down the hall in three big steps. I followed quickly.

I reached the kitchen just in time to see orange flames erupt on the stove. Brittany swiftly moved to pour water on the pan.

"Britt, no, STOP!" You screamed and rushed forward. A few drops of water sizzled on the flames as Brittany stopped herself from letting the liquid waterfall over the pan. You reached for something on the counter and slammed it down on the flames. Then you flicked off the stove and grabbed a towel before using it to move the lidded pan to the sink.

Smoke still filled the air and I coughed slightly. Brittany reached up and jabbed at the smoke alarm where it was still blaring and hit the button on it, effectively silencing the loud noise. You wiped at the air with your hands trying to clear the steam. Angrily you turned on Brittany.

"Britt, what the hell?" Your hair was wildly flowing around your face, wet and curly.

"I…" Brittany looked between you and the stove. "I forgot it was on there. I was doing the chicken."

"You _forgot?_ Seriously Britt, Jesus Christ." Your hands gestured wildly. "And you can't fucking pour water on a flame like that, it only fuels the fire. You have to _cover_ it otherwise it'll just get worse!"

Brittany shrunk into herself and I looked between the two of you, unsure of what to do or how to calm you down. "Sorry," Brittany squeaked.

"Sorry? You could've set the whole place on fire and all you're saying is _sorry_?"

"Tía," I said helplessly as a crease appeared in Brittany's forehead. I knew she was holding back tears.

"You could've set the whole place on fire," you repeated. "The whole…" you trailed off and I watched incredulously as your hands flew to your face and you choked out a sob.

I looked at Brittany confused. One second you'd been yelling and the next you were crying. I had never seen you cry before. What should I do?

"Tía," I said again because I seemed to have forgotten that other words existed. You coughed out another sob, your tiny frame shaking with the force of it.

"Oh, Santana," Brittany rushed forward and wrapped her arms around you. You leaned into her, your forehead resting against her shoulder. "Santana, honey, it's okay. We're fine. Everybody is fine."

I stood there awkwardly, uncertain if I should do something, but it seemed that the two of you had migrated into your own tiny world. I was just barely standing on the edge, close to enough to observe, but too far to make a difference.

I watched as Brittany kissed your hair, murmuring something that I couldn't hear and how your shaking body slowly stilled. I remembered how similar we are, how when we're scared and worried, anger defensively floods our bloodstreams, trying to flush out that vulnerability.

I hummed sympathetically, wondering how Brittany realized so quickly that you weren't really angry, just scared that we could've been hurt. I marveled at how quickly your emotions had flared up when you thought Brittany might hurt herself.

Your relationship with Brittany is so confusing and amazing to me. I don't understand it that much, but I get that you guys have this strange symbiosis going on. You care for Brittany in ways I've never cared about anyone, in ways that I can barely begin to fathom. And Brittany has the ability to soothe you with just a quick whispered word.

I hope someday I find something like that. I love John, but I don't know, it doesn't feel as deep as the love between you and Brittany. Maybe it's an appreciation that comes with age, or maybe John is my just first love and it won't last. I'm not sure.

All I know is that staring at the way your hands clenched around Brittany's shirt and how her cheek rested against the top of your head, that sort of love was a special kind of dance.

For just a moment, a beat in the sands of time, our dinner lay forgotten. I blended into the background. You and Brittany held each other. And I marveled at the tiny world the two of you had created together.

I'm glad that I'm lucky enough to be one of the few people who get to have one foot in that world. It makes me certain that no matter what, love exists and it's everything that people expect it to be.

Sometimes, it's even more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hello all. So... that was it. That's the end. I know this is not the ending point for They Bring Me Back, but in my opinion, this is where Cass feels that things in her life have finally shifted for the best and the end of where she thanks Santana. I hope you all enjoyed it, and sorry that it took me a year and a half to finish. Thank you all for sticking around and for all your kind words and support. I have loved writing this. Of course, thank you so much to Carola who has been with me for awhile now, editing and helping my writing be its very best.

As for the future, I have a few things in progress, but I am slow to finish them. So they might happen in the near future or the far future or who knows when, but I guess cautiously expect those if you enjoy my stuff. And if you haven't checked them out, I have two other stories which I think are pretty fun. If you want to, you may make prompt requests at my tumblr (thatswherehopelies), and I'll see what I can do.

Finally, just really, thank you. This story, and Cass especially, have meant so much to me and all of my readers have only helped to foster my love for writing and for this fiction. Thank you all so much.

See you next time,

Angie


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